East
by AshesAndInk
Summary: Follow an eventful year in the life of a crazy young traveller as she stays at the Germanic Bros' house! There's pranks, a murder mystery, and *sniff sniff* is that romance I smell in the air? *cough* nope, just England's cooking! Also a healthy dose of angst brought to you by Prussia's past. Rated T very mild violence.
1. The Last Frontier

I love to travel.

I spend my time traveling to earn money to go on yet another escapade to a gorgeous or physically challenging location.

The catch?

I've never been outside of my homeland, the USA. Probably because one of my best friends, Alfred; he'd probably be bored out of his skull if he didn't have anybody to party with.

I walk into my shabby apartment, this time in Alaska, and peek hopefully into my sock drawer to see that I almost have enough money to travel again! Maybe to Oregon, this time, though I sure would miss the Last Frontier.

Just one more day of work and I'd be off.

Just one more exhausting day of work.

I wake up early the nest morning to the buzzing of my phone.

Too tired to wonder how I have cell service, I put it angrily to my ear.

"Alfred," I hiss, brushing my goldish-brown hair out of my eyes, "It's three in the morning! What the—"

"Hey! Dude, hi!" I hear him exclaim, energetic as ever, "I just called to let you know, you're coming to D.C.!"

I sit up in bed for a moment, uncomprehending, before it finally clicks.

"What the heck?! Why? I barely have enough money to go a few states down, and flipping _Washington_ —"

He cuts me off yet again.

"Yeah, dude, you also have to be there by…okay, it's Wednesday morning… so by Thursday!"

" _What the—"_

"Yeah, you might have to cut through Canada, but I'm sure he won't mind."

"Al, I don't even have a _passport_."

"I got you, Brohas, don't worry! You won't need one, because I told the airport dudes to let you on without one!"

I sit in silence, stunned.

"The catch?" I ask suspiciously.

"Besides having some serious jet lag?" I can practically _hear_ my friend's cheeky grin. "Well, you have to tell him your name, age, and totally rock out to the national anthem while he films!"

"What?!" I yell. Not that I'm not patriotic or anything, it's just that, Al will _definitely_ use this against me… somehow… he has his ways…

" _Fine,"_ I snarl, "But I still don't have enough money. I'll have to work."

"Sure thing! You can work tomorrow, then, and you can come on Friday. The thing was on Friday anyways; Thursday was for your comfort…"

"What _THING_?!" I scream at him, but Alfred is already hanging up. "By, Asher."

I sit in bed, stunned at the new turn of events. A few seconds later, Al texts me.

"McCarthy Airport. Don't be late, man! I'll meet you in DC."

I sigh. There's not getting out of this one.

I don't fall back asleep. I get up at four; the same time as everybody else, and start work.

The sun still isn't shining; it won't for almost another year.

I slip into a work aviator jacket, sliding it on over my black tank top. The sounds of morning follow me outside and down the main road as I chew on a granola bar, my breath fogging the air. It is a cold October, but I try to count my blessings. It doesn't work.

Tuning my violin, I lay my black and red beanie on the ground for people to throw money into.

I start out with a few slow minuets to wake my usual crowd, but eventually slide into my well-loved Irish pieces.

This goes on for a few hours until my arm feels like it might just fall off and I've collected around a hundred dollars and one Canadian dollar bill.

I pack up and go to the Davis family's cabin to chop wood until noon. They would be doing it themselves, but they had month-old triplets to take care of, so they paid me another hundred to do that and any other housework for five hours.

A cold ham sandwich for lunch, and I begin my job as a waitress until seven PM, where I've earned one hundred and fifty dollars and seventy more for working late and in tips.

Finally, I play violin some more until nine PM, so I have earned a total of four hundred and twenty dollars, a new record.

"These people sure must want me to leave," I mumble, my eyes clouding with the welcome colour of sleep.


	2. Heading to DC

My phone rings. I look up to see that it's eleven-thirty already—almost noon.

I recognize Alfred's ringtone—nothing less than the national anthem itself, reminding me of what I have to do.

"Yeah, Brohas?" I mumble, still half-asleep.

"Duse, are you at the airport yet?" His voice crackles, "you leave at noon!"

I start awake. "Oh, dang, man!" I yell, leaping out of bed and gathering up my belongings. "The airport's five miles away, and I don't have a car!"

" _Why the crap don't you have a car?!"_ My friend yells, panting hard. "I hope you can run fast, bro."

I hang up and leap into my shoes and jacket. In less than five minutes, I'm pedaling hard on my mountain bike to McCarthy Airport, my violin strapped across my back and my luggage over my shoulder. I wonder what the Davis family will do, and I petal faster.

Twenty minutes of burning pain later, I reach the airport. Rolling my bike in, I immediately spot a security guard with a piece of cardboard in his hands. I noticed it didn't have my name, but said, "BROHAS", instead.

I walk up to him, wheeling my bike beside me.

"I'm Asher Holland," I pant, "and I'm twenty-two."

He looks at me over his sunglasses.

"And?"

I sigh. "You better be recording, because I'm _not_ doing this again."

I stand on the nearby x-ray machine and begin to sing. I ignore the people laughing at me, singing all the more loudly.

"Okay," the man in black nods when I'm done, "we delayed the flight for you. I'm to allow you to travel without a passport and with any weapons you may be carrying. You leave in two minutes. It's flight F."

"Where's that?" I ask.

"On the other side of the building."

Without another thought, I hop back onto my bike and pedal as fast a I can through the halls. I dodge pedestrians, and I'm grateful for Al letting me carry weapons, because my jacket is flying back to reveal my pistol.

I bump down stairs and swerve past screaming innocents until I finally see the giant letter F.

With thirty seconds to spare, I dash into the terminal, throw my bike into the cargo hold, and board the plane.

As I fall asleep, the last thing I think it that I'm officially almost broke.

I wake up to see a man glaring down at me.

"Passport?" He speaks snobbishly.

I yawn widely, holding up a signed document Al had sent me. "I'm a friend of Alfred's."

The man frowned.

Another man walks up behind him and takes the paper, holding it gently.

"Uh, yeah," he speaks so softly, I can barely hear him. "That's America all right."

"Thanks, Canada."

The plane takes off again after the men are gone. The snobbish one and… I don't really remember the other one anymore.

I spend the rest of the time watching anime on my phone and eating food.

The plane lands bumpily, and I blink awake. My phone reads six in the morning.

Disoriented by the time change and made clumsy by jet lag, I grab my bike and walk towards the entrance.

"Hey, Asher!" I hear Al's voice from behind me… or beside me, I couldn't tell which, I was so exhausted.

I turn to my right, and see no one. Strong hands turn me around, and I find myself looking straight into Alfred's face.

"Dude," he sounds worried, his eyes glinting from behind his glasses, "you look, like, totally drunk."

"Nope," I yawn, "just tired."

"Well," he flips his light brown hair proudly, "I guess I'm the hero—yet again—for not letting you bike home. Come on, girl."

I bluntly shuffle beside my best friend, and, the next thing I know, I'm in a blue jeep, Alfred driving along the smoothe roads. He gives me a room key and leaves me to collapse onto a soft bed, sleepy and disheveled.

I wake up the next morning, not to my phone buzzing, but to someone knocking loudly on my door.

"Come in," I yawn.

"It's locked, Bro," Al's annoyed voice calls, "Are you ready to go? We're going to be late in you wait any longer."

"For _what?!"_ I demand, now wide awake as I awkwardly slide into some red converse. I'd slept in my jeans and tank as usual, so all I need to do is brush my hair and teeth.

"I'll tell you when you get out here and into the car!" He yells back. I'm seriously getting tired of this.

I unlock the door with bags under my eyes, and Alfred immediately yanks me out to his car.

"What's up, bro?" He asks, sounding suspiciously excited. "You look terrible!"

"Thanks," I grumble, climbing into the passenger's seat, "now will you _please_ tell me where we're going?"

My stomach growls. I look at the electronic clock to see that it's nearly lunch time.

Al laughs, pulling out of the hotel parking lot. The American flags on his car snap noisily as he drives down the street.

"I realized the other day that you've never met any of my friends," he begins, "and I heard that some other Countries were coming here, so I thought, 'Hey! Why not totally be the hero and introduce them!"

My heart stops.

"Other Countries?" I breathe excitedly. Alfred is the only country I know—and he's hardly ever spoken of the others to me.

"That means—"

"Yeah, Brohas, Canada met you on the plane!"

I sit, stunned, before I ask, "Do you know which ones are coming?"

America gives me a sly smile.

"You'll see when we get to McDonalds."

My stomach growls again.

"Great, I'm starving."


	3. McDonalds For the Win

We Walk into McDonald's and Al orders immediately. I grab a booth while I wait for him, and he soon comes back with two Big Macs, a cappuccino, and a regular burger.

As usual, he hands me the coffee and burger, while he wolfs down the Big Macs.

"When will they be here?" I ask, stirring some cinnamon into my coffee.

Al shrugs, taking a huge bite out of his burger.

"I dunno," he replies with his mouth full, "I just told them to get here durmuflungh…" Al's words are drowned out by his food.

"To what?" I narrow my eyes.

"During lunch," he swallows and starts on his other sandwich.

I roll my eyes and begin to look around the restraint, fingering my silver cross necklace and sipping my coffee. After a while, three men walk into the restraint, each looking totally different from the other.

First comes a brown-haired man, his green eyes searching the area curiously, as if he'd never been in a McDonald's before.

Then enters a tall man in a long, blue coat. He moves gracefully and smiles warmly at everyone. His blonde hair reaches down to his shoulders, and his blue eyes are filled with affection.

Lastly, an albino man of average height bursts through the doors, his bloodred eyes glinting with triumph and mischief. His platinum hair shines brightly, and he wears a black tank that shows his pale, muscular arms.

"ZHE AWESOME PRUSSIA HAS ARRIVED!"

Al and I start at this unexpected outburst, and everybody else shoots the man angry glares. He ignores them completely.

Alfred finishes his sandwich in one gulp and jumps up happily.

"Hey! Guys, over here!" He yells, earning some more pointedly angry stares, which he also ignores.

The brunette, the long-haired man, and the albino with the heavy German accent approach our small table.

"Ah, America!" The blonde greets my friend with a silky French accent, "long time no see, _non_?"

"Hey, America. Is this your friend?" the green-eyed brunette smiles pleasantly.

I open my mouth to introduce myself, but the red-eyed German walks forward.

"Hey, Brohas!" He grins, showing long canine teeth, "are you happy to see me?" Without waiting for a response, he continues. "Auf course you are. I AM AWESOME!"

I roll my eyes and take another sip of my coffee."

"Sit down, bros!" Al smiles widely and turns to me. "Asher, these dudes are France," the blonde one lights up at his name, "Spain," the green friendly man with green eyes smiles kindly, "And—"

"And I am PRUSSIA!" the albino grins widely, showing teeth like a wolf.

"Come on, bros, g ahead and sit down!" Al seems completely used to outbursts like these and motions to the table. France takes the chair directly in front of me, the one Al had been sitting at. Alfred, unfazed, sits on the other seat on the far side. Spain and Prussia have to cram in the booth with me, Prussia awkwardly squishing me into the wall, Spain on the far side.

"Hey, what do you want for lunch, guys?" Al asks cheerfully.

"A croissant would be nice," France nods, peering at the menu.

"A salad, maybe," Spain glances over the blonde's shoulder.

"Do zhese losers have vurst?" Prussia demands.

"Wurst?" Alfred looks utterly confused.

"He means sausage, genius," I smirk. Al brightens up.

"OOOOOoooooh. Okay, then. I'll be right back!"

And the America left me with the strangers.


	4. The Plot Begins

Immediately after Alfred leaves, France leans forward, a slight grin on his face.

"She is a pretty one, _non_? Ohonhonhonhonhon…" his laugh makes my shiver slightly, but I keep calm.

"I'm beauty, I'm grace, I'll break your stupid face," I beam brightly at him, showing my canine teeth. France blinks, his smile fading. I hear Spain chuckle from my side for a split second before Prussia throws back his head in a hysterical—not to mention _loud_ —laugh, squishing me even more into the wall.

" _Keseseseseseseseseseses…"_ he cackles, and I soon find myself snickering with him.

Al appears to find an unhappy and slightly terrified France, and Spain, Prussia and my laughter subsiding.

"What's up, Brohas?" he grins, "I have food."

He lays a buttery croissant in front of France, who brightens up considerably. A fresh salad is set in front of Spain, and a sausage biscuit goes to Prussia.

The albino frowns. He delicately lifts the biscuit, removes the patty, and gives it a good sniff. His scarlet eyes narrow, and his scowl deepens.

"Vhat… is _zhis_ …?" he demands, holding the meat in front of Al's face.

"Umm… it's sausage, dude," he smiles uncertainly.

"YOU CALL ZHIS _VURST?!"_ the German bursts out waving the creasy, slightly soggy patty over his head. I duck, barely avoiding a sausage to the face.

"Just try it, man," I groan, "I don't want to fuse into the wall."

"Vas?" Prussia tilts his head my way, confused.

"You're _pushing_ me," I force my words out through teeth gritted in frustration, "into the _wall!_ " my words end in a loud yell, and the platinum-haired twenty-six-year-old flinches.

"…oh." He sits down, a slight embarrassed blush blooming in his cheeks. He sticks the slab of meat back into the biscuit and takes a hesitant chomp out of it, still looking bitter.

"Yes…?" I urge him on, waiting for a verdict.

"Germans can do better," he states simply after a few seconds' uncertainty.

"And that means…?" Spain prods gently.

"It's awesome," Prussia smiles slyly, "but not _half_ as awesome as me."

"Can you _believe_ she's never been out of the country?" Alfred asks his other friends incredulously. I sigh—it's just like Al to say something like that, just to get me riled up.

"Really?" France asks curiously, our earlier dispute seemingly forgotten.

"Yeah," Alfred raises an eyebrow at me, "But she goes everywhere she can here. I just pulled her here from… oh, where was it?"

"Alaska," I hiss.

"Oh, so you had to pass though… that… the ghost over America?" Spain asks quite innocently.

"Yeah," I reply, getting steadily bolder, "Al rigged it to where I can travel without a passport and with a gun."

"So… you don't have a passport?" Prussia, who hasn't said a word since the sausage outburst, speaks up.

"No," I shake my head, " I don't have the time."

Prussia and Alfred exchange a glance. Al nods.

"Vell…" the albino pulls a small package wrapped in brown paper from his pocket, " I guess you'll need zhis, zhen."

I open it, curious, to find nothing other than a passport with my name on it. My jaw drops.

"Wh—Why?" My hands shake as they hold my future. "Why would you—?"

"Not just me, all of us," Prussia hastily corrects me, his face flushing a red as bright as his eyes.

"It was my idea," Al grins, "I heard that the Bad Touch Trio were coming here, and I thought this would be a cool way to surprise you."

I sigh.

"Al, guys, this is really sweet, but I won't be using it for a _long_ time; I'm broke. I spent all my money travelling here. I jut can't travel yet."

"Oh, but you _vill_!" Prussia inches out past a confused-looking Spain and spreads his arms out wide, a massive grin on his face.

"You're coming to Germany."

No one speaks.

All I hear is the muffled sound of people mulling around and chatting, the sounds of a typical fast food restaurant.

"What?" I finally manage. I glance around to see that everyone else looks just as surprised as I am.

"I'll take you to meet Vest and hiss less-awesome friends, and you can taste real, awesome vurst, and zhe best part is," he leans forward, hi eyes gleaming vibrantly, "It's all on me."


	5. In Need of an Adventure

Though lunch is shocking, yet pleasant, the rest of the day boring and uneventful—meaning I sleep in my apartment.

Little do I know, a miniature conference is being held just next door.

"What was that, man?" America demands, still shocked. "That wasn't in the plan!"

"Zhe plan sucked," Prussia replies bluntly, "I just made it awesome."

"But… do you think she's ready for—"

"For vas? Meeving Vest, or zhe Vurld Council?" the albino laughs loudly, harshly.

"But, bro," Al looks slightly pale, "Like I said, she's never been out of the country, and—"

"Are you saying zhat going to Germany vould kill her?" Prussia narrows his eyes and growls through his teeth, "Because, if you sk me, she looked like she vas ready for zhat und more, America."

Al hisses bitterly.

"Sometimes I really hate you, dude."

"Zhen vhy did you invite me here?" He challenges, a defiant gleam in his ruby eyes. "She's coming to Germany vis me, und zhere's nothing you can do. She might be… useful…" his face adopts a pensive expression, a slight smirk touching his lips.

Spain smiles apologetically and attempts to cut in. "Let's not argue about something so—"

"I vasn't arguing," Prussia states calmly, "I vas simply stating vhy I am correct."

I wake early the next morning to footsteps outside my door. Grabbing my pistol, I cautiously creep out of bed. Someone slips a piece of paper under my door, and I bend down to examine it.

wE LEAve aT 4. bE ReAdY.

"What?" I say aloud.

"It is _zwei_ in _das morgen…_ " I hear Prussia whisper on the other side of the door. I hesitate.

"S-sorry," His voice stammers, "I kind of slip back into German vhen I'm tired… but like I said: Be ready. And quiet."

I nod. "Sure."

Two hours later, I'm out the door and in the passenger's seat of a bright red Ferrari with a license plate that says "AWESOM3".

It was Prussia's, of course, and he drives steadily down the highway, his face betraying no emotion. Spain and France are half-asleep in the back.

I try to keep my eyes open, not entirely trusting Prussia to drive straight when he isn't even conscious enough to speak English. Eventually, though, I begin to nod off.

That is, until a loud car horn wakes me up, along with Prussia.

He screams loudly, swerving to avoid a huge eighteen-wheeler. It clips our front bumper, and the car spins off the highway.

" _WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!"_ I scream at the albino German.

"I—I don't know!" his voice is shocked, and for good reason. "I nod off for _one second_ , and—"

"You _fell asleep?!_ " Spain yells from the back. I turn around in my seat to see that his face is tomato red, and France is still asleep.

"Whatever," I sigh shakily. I realize that's I'm shivering violently, and I look over to see that Prussia is as well. "Let's just go."

The German nods, quivering, and tries to turn the car back on. It sputters uselessly for a second, then gives out. We shoot each other panicked glances before he tries again. This time, it doesn't work at all.

"She's gone," I state disbelievingly.

We sit for a moment, still as statues.

"Looks like we're hitch hiking," Spain mutters.

I am standing on the side of the road, my thumb pointing towards the airport. Prussia, France, and Spain are spread out a bit in the same position.

It's been thirty minutes and nobody has picked us up yet.

"I feel so unawesome," Prussia hisses bitterly.

"Well," I growl back, shooting him a furious glare, "We wouldn't have to do this if you didn't fall asleep."

"Hey!" he snaps, "I vas awake all night trying to devise an escape—"

"A _what?"_ I turn to face him. Prussia's bloodred eyes widen.

He is saved from having to answer by a sudden car horn, and I look to see that it is Alfred's blue Jeep. At the sight of my best friend's car, Prussia draws back, his expression undecipherable.

Al pulls over and kicks his the passenger's door open.

"Get in," he growls.

"Thanks, man," I sigh gratefully as I climb in. "You're a life saver."

He says nothing for a while, glaring at me with furious blue eyes. Spain, Prussia, and France climb into the back. Prussia's eyes are narrowed into hateful slits, and Spain and France are looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

"And _you're_ a traitor," Al snarls back.

I blink in surprise.

"What?" I turn to face him. He remains silent, though, and begins to drive. But his eyes say everything. And, after a few minutes of driving with an atmosphere like a thundercloud, he answers.

"Sneaking off in the middle of the night like that," he snarls, but not to me. "Typical of you guys. Just do _whatever_ you _want_ ," he's yelling now, " _Don't even_ _think_ _of how it effects others!"_

Spain shifts uncomfortably in his seat, France takes a deep breath, and Prussia is still giving the world a nasty look.

"But what I'm _really_ wondering," Al continues softly, "Is why Asher would go along with this.

I start. Weren't we just going to the airport?

"She didn't know," Prussia hisses through his teeth. I look at him through the mirror, but he avoids my gaze.

"Didn't know what?" My voice is disturbingly soft.

"We never told you, _chica_ ," Spain speaks slowly, almost cautiously, "That we were sneaking you away. So America wouldn't find out."

" _You_ _ **WHAT?!**_ " I scream whipping around to shoot flaming daggers out of my eyes, and I throw a few curses at the European countries. Prussia finally looks me in the eye, but his bitterness can't match my fury. Nothing can.

" ** _WHY THE ACTUAL CRAP WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"_** I see France begin to writhe under my gaze.

"Because _he_ didn't vant you to go!" Prussia retorts, nodding towards Al.

"Hey," Al snaps, "Don't blame me if I don't trust _them. This_ was never part of the plan!"

"Then why are we still going to the airport?" I challenge. Al looks down.

"Because…" he begins, but stops suddenly. He hesitates a few moments before he continues, slowly and shakily.

"You deserve a change."

We get out of the car, and I give Alfred a tight hug.

"Don't worry about me," I whisper comfortingly, "I don't carry this pistol around fro nothing."

He is smiling when I break away.

"I'll miss you, Brohas," He pats my shoulder. "But I'll try to make as much mischief as I can on my own. I'm sorry I totally blew up."

"It's all right." I smile and walk away. Spain walks in silence beside me.

We enter the airport a few hours early.

"Yeah, sorry about zhat," Prussia walks up on my other side, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Ve just vanted you to come. Really, ve did."

I roll my eyes and sit on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.

"We really are sorry, _chica_ ," Spain looks like he's telling the truth. "We just didn't think you'd want to come if America didn't want you to."

"It… it's all right." I realize that I'm telling the truth as well. "I would've gone either way, though."

Prussia's crimson eyes widen. "Really?" He brightens up considerably. I look him in the eye.

"Yes. And I think you knew it, too. He's right, I guess; I need and adventure."


	6. First Impression

Soon enough, it was time to board the plane. Stiff and sore from sitting on what must've been medieval torture weapons, I take a window seat. Prussia sits next to me on my right, and Spain and France follow.

A few minutes into the six-hour flight to London, Prussia breaks the icy barrier.

"Listen," He starts, somewhat nervous, "I know you're mad." He sounds a bit angry himself. "But I didn't _mean_ for you to find out—er, zhat is, I didn't—"

"Stop," I interrupt him, "Just shut up and listen to _me_ now." He closes his mouth.

"I'm not going to hold a grudge for long," I begin, "and I'm going to be hanging out with you for quite a while, so let's just forget all this and start over."

I hold my hand out to him. "Hi. I'm Asher Holland. I like video games and guns. And coffee."

Prussia shakes my hand firmly.

" _Guten Tag_ ," His eyes sparkly, "I am zhe Awesome Prussia—er, Gilbert. Und I like other awesome people."

We smile at each other.

Two hours later, I'm sharing some Pocky I'd snuck onto the plane with the other three countries and showing them random internet videos on my phone.

France is going on about Joan of Arc, Spain is attempting to read a book, and Prussia is telling me how much I'll love his home country, and how lame it is that I have to stop in the "unawesome" England first. Personally, though, I'm looking forward to it—from what I hear, England is a wonderful country.

I nod and yawn. My watch reads 3:00 PM.

 _Only three?_ I think.

A few hours later, and the plane lands safely. How boring. I yawn, grateful to stretch my legs for a few minutes in London, England.

A tall man with dirty-blonde hair, a seemingly permanent scowl, and intense eyebrows walks up to us.

"Hello," he scowls, "Welcome to your thirty minutes in London." Prussia and I snicker, and he frowns even harder.

"What's on _your_ mind?" Spain asks.

"This." The Brit holds up his phone. I squint to see a vide playing through the glare of the sun.

"Alfred sent me this a few moments ago."

I groan loudly when I realize that it's the video of me singing the American national anthem on the x-ray machine.

"Hehe…" I grin nervously. "He's a stinker…"

"And _you_ , from what I have seen, are a loud, _disruptive—"_

I start to frown.

"Shove off," I hiss, rolling my eyes. France, I notice, hasn't stopped glaring at the man, who I assume is England.

"Let's just hang out in the plane," Spain sees the threat of battle in the air. "Or, better yet, _you_ three can stay in the plane, and _I_ can go get some food. How's that?"

" _Fine_ ," I spit, seriously considering giving this twit a taste of my "loud", "disruptive" _fists._ France takes me by the shoulder and steers me into the plane. I notice that he's just as tense as I am.

"A least I'm not the only one who dislikes England," he sighs. I nod, and we sit back down in our seats.

"And the thing is," I glare at my lap, "I wouldn't have minded him very much if he hadn't seen that video of me."

" _Nein_ ," Prussia shakes his head and forces out a laugh, "he vould have found something he didn't like. You're too much like America."

"And like Prussia," I hear Spain comment wryly. The German snaps his head around and glares fiercely at the brunette. I laugh.

"England offered to cook," Spain makes a face as he makes his way towards us, a brown paper bag in tow, "But I told him I knew of a nice little café around here. I actually just noticed it as we walked out." He tosses the to-go bag on Prussia's lap and scoots in to sit down.

Prussia peers inside and pulls out a pastry.

"Seriously?" He raises an eyebrow. Spain shrugs.

"Hand them out, we're hungry!" I bounce my knee, too starving to care if this was a healthy dinner or not.

About fifteen minutes later, it's 6:30, and the plane is taking off. I look at the beautiful scenery below until it's covered with clouds, and start to listen to music. My playlist repeats a few times, and it's only been two hours.

I yawn widely, stretching out my arms. It was eight PM, and I was exhausted.

 **A/N**

 **Yea, two chapters at once because one is short and i haven't been to good about posting (I might be sorry, not sure yet, but whee!)**


	7. Germany

**A/N FLUFF ALERT! FLUFF ALERT! (well, the very little amount of fluff I am actually able to do.) This** ** _is_** **my first shot a romance, and it's hard enough as it is not to turn it into an action-thriller or whatever. Also, to those who might get a bit worried,** ** _no romance over K+ had, is, or will happen, don't worry_** **(My proofreaders and I caught how some things might be interpreted and it's all right XD)**

 **Okay, long note, right—along with the story. Here you go…**

I wake to the bumpy landing of the plane and a soft murmur in my ear. I blink my eyes open to see Spain and France staring with wide eyes, trying to stifle their giggles. I look up at them, confused.

Then I realize what they're laughing at.

My head is resting on Prussia's shoulder, and his hand is draped across mine. He snores softly.

"Prussia?" I tense.

"Was?" he mutters, still half asleep.

"Get off."

His eyes snap open and we immediately jerk away from each other, his face quickly reddening in a furious blush, and mine curling into a furious snarl. The other two countries burst into laughter, and our faces adopt a bright fire-truck hue of red.

"Aww, they are adorable, _non_?" France snickers.

"Shut up," Prussia and I hiss in unison, and glare at each other. Prussia looks down and curses in German as Spain shows us a picture he'd taken of us just seconds before I'd woken up.

"Knock it off, jerks," I snarl, "I know you're not _that_ mean."

"Don't worry, _chica_ ," Spain chuckles, "I won't send it out or anything. I know you have a gun."

Prussia is the first to burst out of the airport. He laughs in glee and spins around to survey the area. I walk out slowly, trying to absorb as much of the incredible scenery as I can.

The green, snow-happed mountain ranges dance almost out of sight, and the tall pines stand out starkly against the clear morning sky. It would've been midnight, but the time zone change added maybe six hours. I laugh and stare out in wonder and awe of the landscape made of greens, blues, and whites.

"It's awesome, isn't it?" Prussia grins lopsidedly and gestures at his homeland. I don't hesitate to answer an enthusiastic _yes_.

"No I vill take you to your cabin," he looks at me excitedly, "and tomorrow, you can meet West."

"Who's West?" I ask, getting more tired by the minute.

"He's mein little Bruder," Prussia smirks, "you'll like him."

I see Spain and France roll their eyes.

"Yeah, but I get the feeling he won't like me." I mutter as I follow Prussia to a rental car.

We drive up a long, winding road that curls up a mountain slope like a silver snake. I stare out the window, amazed at the scenery.

"Look!" I exclaim suddenly, pointing out the window. A huge, deep ultramarine lake lies in the valley far below, snow powdering the pines clustered around it.

" _Ja,"_ Prussia smiles fondly and drives a bit slower so he can stare at it as well, "Zhat's zhe main reason West and I built our house here. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I can only nod, astounded.

Soon enough, we pull into a smoothly paved driveway that leads to a large white house with cream wooden plans crosshatching the roof. Flower beds surround the porch, full of perfectly trimmed hedges, daisies, and lilies.

"Wow," I breathe, "nice place, Prussia."

He laughs. "Oh, it's West who keeps zhe place up and running. He's such a clean freak."

We walk up the stairs to the porch, and through the front door is a long hallway ending in a large window. The walls are made of wooden planks painted white, and framed pictures are spaced evenly along the walls. I notice that as we pass, Prussia casually tilts each frame.

There is a white wooden door halfway through each side of the hallway, and the door on the right side opens as I walk towards it, and a tall, pale man with bright blue eyes and perfectly slicked-back blonde hair walks out. His eyes widen and his face reddens angrily.

"WHO IS ZHIS?" he shouts in a deeps, booming voice.

"Oh, zhis is a girl I brought from America," Prussia grins, gesturing towards me.

"Asher," I nod, trying to smile at the man who is apparently offended by my presence. "I'm guessing your Prussia's brother?"

" _Ja,"_ He glares, "It's Germany." I notice his eyes flickering towards the tilted frames, and Prussia smirks.

"Let's go," the albino leads me into the door on the right-hand side. I find myself in an average-looking kitchen with white tile floors, a wooden table, and a metal refrigerator.

We walk up the stairs inside the kitchen to emerge onto the second floor—a hallway similar to the one downstairs, but with one door on the left side and two on the right.

Spain and France, obviously used to coming here, immediately head towards the first door on the right, and Prussia leads me to the far right door.

"Zhis is your room," he creaks the door open. I start slightly, puzzled.

"Wait," I begin, "I'm staying here?"

" _Ja_ ," Prussia nods vigorously, "zhe awesome place."

"I kinda thought I'd rent a hotel room or something…"

"But your _broke_ ," the German states, a confused look on his face. I nod reluctantly. He has a good point, but I'm not exactly open to the idea of being a charity case.

"Fine," I sigh and push my way into the room, closing the door behind me. I peer around curiously. It's a decent-sized room with off-white walls and a window overlooking the lake. There's a bunk bed in one corner, and in the other is a wooden dresser.

I promptly throw down my luggage and leap up to the top bunk.

"What the heck?" I furrow my brow as I pick up a small white pillow that looks hand-made and turn it around. The word " _PASTA"_ is stitched on the back in bright red.

I shrug and take it down, walking out of my room and across the hall to the place Prussia and Germany stay.

That's when I realize that the brothers could not be more different.

There are two beds, one on each side of the long, rectangular room. The walls are painted white on the side closest to me, and black on the other side. There are windows on each end, and the areas are visibly marked off by a line of garbage.

The darker side of the room is strewn with junk—empty beer bottles or cans, dirty clothes, and heaps of other stuff. The other side is perfectly clean.

Germany is lifting weights on the light side, and Prussia's slightly frightening laughter floats my way from the other side. I peer in to see that he is sitting cross-legged on his bed, playing with a small, round baby chick.

"Is this yours?" I ask, looking back at Germany. He looks up, startled, and the fluffy yellow chick immediately flies up and begins to dive-bomb me.

"Gilbird!" Prussia exclaims, standing up and scolding the bird like a bad child. The chick peeps angrily and flies into the albino's pillow.

"Sorry, man," Prussia smiles apologetically, "he just doesn't like new people…" he laughs again.

"I can tell," I shake the feathers out of my hair and glare at the bird. "but seriously, is this yours?" I hold up the pillow. Prussia makes a face.

"Isn't zhat zhe stupid loser pillow zhat—"

"It must be Italy's," Germany interrupts his brother, taking it gently. He looks up. "Danke, Fräulein. I vill keep it until he comes."

Prussia does that strange laugh of his, and I leave.

I rest in my room until a hesitant knock on my door wakes me up. That, and my growling stomach.

"Yeah?" I yawn widely, opening the door to find Spain.

"It's lunchtime, if you're hungry." He tilts his head to one side.

"Sure," I respond, yanking the tangles out of my hair.

I sit down to a plate of sausage and German cucumber salad. After praying, I look up to see the others doing the same, and we begin to eat in a comfortable silence.

That is, before Spain and France look each other in the eye. At first, I just ignore it, but then the long-haired blonde nods, and the Spaniard reaches for something. I tense.

"Hey, Germany." He puts his phone on the table, "would you mind checking the time on my phone…?"

"Uh…sure?" the lemony-haired German clicked the power button.

"It's twelve…" his voice trails off and his eyes narrow. I feel the atmosphere thicken until he speaks softly.

"Prussia?" he hisses. The albino somehow gets paler, and my blood runs cold.

" _Ja,_ Bruder?" He asks breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Vhat is _zhis?!"_ he turns the phone around. My heart stops.

The screens shows the picture of Prussia and me on the plane.

 **A/N See, what did I tell you? Not that bad with fluff. If you want more, just say so, and if you want less, just hang in there.**


	8. Trying Hard

I sit on the top bunk of the guest room, dangling my legs in a daze of depression. I sigh and finger the dog tag around my neck, the one carved with the American flag. I wear it all the time—not just to be patriotic, but because it holds so many memories…

Those memories help a lot, even when my life feels like junk, which it does now.

After lunch—which had ended with the phone picture—I'd retreated to my room. And by retreat, I mean barely escaped.

Needless to say, Germany had been furious. And he still is. I don't know why—I'd only nodded off, and my head had fallen onto his older brother's shoulder. Why is he so mad?

I let out a pained groan and fall back onto the top bunk. How am I going to make it up to him?

Normally, I don't care what people think; if they're not awesome enough and just can't take me, well, _tough_. But I'm going to be staying with Germany for who knows _how_ long, and I _really_ don't want him to hate my guts forever.

My breath escapes in another sigh, but this one more of an annoyed hiss.

I guess I'll have to work until he can tolerate me.

This might take a while.

I wake up early the next morning and creep down the halls. The deep blue but ever-lightening sky casts an ocean of light on the floor where I step.

I come to the kitchen and search the refrigerator. Maybe the way to this man's tolerance is through food?

When he walks down, he sees me standing behind the table, a slightly terrifying fanged grin plastered onto my face.

"Vas is zhis?"he jumps back at first, "Vhy are you looking at me like zhat?"

I sigh loudly. "Don't judge me! I can't help it if it look sadistic when I smile!" I pause for a minute, taking several deep breaths before narrowing my eyes and trying to smile more pleasantly as I hold up a plate of sausage.

"Vas?" He takes a cautious step forward. "Vas is zhis?"

"I made breakfast, genius," I regret no sarcasm. "Sit down and eat."

He eases himself into a chair and, not even two milliseconds later, Prussia slides down the stairs.

"I smelled vurst." He says it almost like a demand

"Food," I point with two fingers to a bowl of my awesome Chili Sausage. I had been a huge hit in Alaska and New Mexico—why couldn't I make it in Germany?

Prussia grabs a plate and sits down. We begin to eat.

"Hmm… zhis is…" Germany begins sounding slightly pleased, but he spoke too soon. His eyes widen. His face turns a few shades brighter than a fire truck.

"Vas is in zhis, exactly?" his eyes water.

"Uh, sausage…" I begin uncertainly, "a few bell peppers and some home made ghost pepper sauce…" I take another bite. "It's my own recipe."

Germany explodes.

" _VHY DID YOU PUT GHOST PEPPERS IN_ _VURST?!"_ he screams and leaps towards the sink.

I stand up, angry that he'd just insulted something I've lived with for years. " _WHY DO YOU HAVE GHOST PEPPERS IN YOUR PANTRY?!"_ I yell back.

Prussia bursts out into maniacal laughter.

"Germ can't _stand_ hot zhings," he cackles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spain appear at the bottom of the stairs. He takes one look at Prussia laughing his face off and Germany bathing his tongue in the sink and, with a completely dead expression on his face, walks back upstairs.

That just about did it for me. I shatter into hysterical laughter with the albino, just as Germany turns around, furiously red.

He didn't say anything, but just walked outside, obviously in pain. I almost feel sorry for him… but so much for plan A.

I stomp back up to my room and take out my violin—not to play, just for comfort. I watch the smoothly curving grains of wood, trace my finger along the glistening edge. I pluck the strings, and wince when they cry out, horribly out of tune. This weather hasn't been good for the instrument in Alaska, and it _definitely_ won't be good here.

The sun rises through the window and highlights the smooth wooden body with blood.

An idea forms.

Just after lunch, Germany enters the house looking sweaty and exhausted, probably back from the gym. Prussia follows him, looking no less worn out, but still laughing that laugh of his.

"Hey, Germany?" I approach him slowly, trying to look as unthreatening as I can. "O just wanted to apologize for the… the ghost peppers. So, I decided to play some violin for you."

"Er… okay…?" he looks a bit dubious, but motions me to the door across from the kitchen, the only one I hadn't been through yet.

"Com into zhe den, zhen."

I nod curtly and walk in. It's a long rectangular room, a few yards longer and wider than the German brothers'. The walls are made of mahogany planks, and there is a window on each side of the room. A bearskin rug is thrown onto the polished wood floor, and there is a large fireplace across from the door. There are couches on either side of the room, and a leather armchair sits on the left side. To top it all off, a huge framed map of Germany is sitting regally above the fireplace. The whole room emits a nice, rustic vibe, and I suddenly know that my violin will do nothing but add to that.

Germany walks in with a glass of beer and sits in the armchair. Prussia follows, Spain and France close behind.

"Germ needs a little violin music to lull him to sleep," Prussia laughs loudly, sounding more like a teasing older brother than ever. "It's almost time for his nap."

"Shut up, East," the younger man hisses, "Just because I've yawned _one time_ —"

"Shush, baby Bruder," the red eyed-German cuts his brother's sentence short and looks at me expectantly. "Fräulein?"

I nod once before lifting the instrument to my neck. I gently run the powdered bow along the strings and wince—they are hideously out of tune.

Prussia laughs, the others snicker, and Germany lets out an annoyed hiss. I glare at them until they shut up and take a few minutes to tune my violin so it actually sounds good.

And then I begin.

With a deep breath, I start with a few lively Irish jigs and see Germany nod in reluctant approval out of the corner of my eye. After a while, I slip into some heartfelt Celtic folksongs I'm fond of. A hint of a smile tugs at Germany's lips as he leans back, and I see France sigh softly. Spain closes his eyes in bliss, and Prussia leans forward, eyes wide, seemingly fascinated.

Finally, I end with the only German song I know—a soulful ballad. Prussia closes the eyes and smiles softly to himself, and I know I've won the crowd.

I finish, the last melancholy note still ringing in the air, and slowly lower my aching arms, savoring the moment.

I slowly bend down, feeling Prussia's eyes on me, and begin to gingerly wipe the rosin off my bow and instrument.

I gently close the case and stand up, not wanting to ruin the silence of awe just yet.

Then my hopeful gaze turns to Germany, who is fast asleep.

I see Prussia notice him, too, and begin to grin widely. Spain looks at me questioningly as I try to hold in my laughter. The silver-haired Prussian claps his hands over his mouth, and his shoulders shake with mirth. France is still lying there, stuck in his stupor.

Prussia and I burst out laughing at the same time, Spain finally catching on and joining in.

" _Vha—"_ Germany starts awake, jerking up with wild eyes that dart around rapidly.

"You fell asleep, baby West!" Prussia cackles, and I laugh even harder. France scowls at us angrily.

"Why did you have to break the peace, _Cherie_?" he frowns, "I haven't been able to relax like that outside of my homeland for a while."

Germany blushes furiously as we keep on laughing, not able to stop once we've started. He shoots me a feverish glare before storming out of the room. My happiness quickly fades when I realize he still hates me.

"Dang it," I hiss after him and plop onto the floor as Spain and France leave. But Prussia lingers.

"I vill admit, zhat vas pretty awesome," he acknowledges after a while with a smirk.

" _Danke_ ," I mutter, then start a bit when I realize I'd answered in German. "Sorry," blush a soft red, "I haven't done that in a while, especially after people started getting annoyed with me speaking in a different language."

"Oh, don't be sorry," the paper-skinned man laughs once and shrugs, "You _are_ in Germany, after all. I didn't know you spoke my language, zhough."

"Yeah," I smile fondly at the memories that come to mind, "I learned a while back."

"Vell, I like it." The albino walks forward and crouches next to me. "Vhy do you look sad?" he seemed genuinely concerned.

"Nothing really," I roll my eyes, "just that your brother hates me."

He pauses before speaking again.

"And vhy do you care?"

I shrug. "I guess I just don't want to be on his bad side."

Prussia laughs and flashes me a cheeky grin. "Really? You seem like zhe kind of person who _Germany_ should worry about ticking off, you know? Like Russia!"

I smirk. "Thanks, man."

"Plus," the albino's eyes flash scarlet as he sits down, legs crossed, "he's kind of like zhat England, how he's bound to find fault in zhe people who make a bad first impression."

I sigh and nod. "Whatever."

Prussia sits in silence for a minute before brightening up a few hundred watts.

"If he's determined to hate you anyways…" he grins toothily, "zhen vhy not actually give him a reason?"

It takes me a bit to get what he's saying.

"You mean prank him until he begs for mercy?" I get a lot happier at the prospect, "Of course!"

"Zhen come on!" the albino leaps up and leaves me to push myself off the floor.

"Where are you going?" I ask curiously.

"Vell," he looks exited, "you go put up your violin zhing, zhen meet me down here."

I can only nod along.

 **A/N wow. That chapter was actually long. And France actually had a speaking part. And for the Francophiles [lovers/admirers of France] that are reading this, he has a good part in this next chapter, too, don't worry.**


	9. Pranks and Visitors

Pranks and Visitors

I run downstairs to see Germany frying wurst in a pan, France looking over his shoulder with a critical eye.

"A little more basil," he mutters, and the other blonde complies.

Shooting daggers at the back of Germany's head as I pass, I run to the den.

As soon as I open the door, I run headlong into Prussia. He grabs me by the shoulders excitedly and shoves me towards a small staircase I hadn't noticed in the right corner of the room.

I begin to trot towards it, but the German darts past me, grasping my hand as he goes and jerking me down the steep steps. We come to a thick oak door at the bottom, and Prussia grabs a key from his pocket and fiddles with the lock, his hands shaking with excitement.

I look up and see a sign hung above he door in Prussia's handwriting.

" 'No unawesome people allowed'?" I raise an eyebrow at my red-eyed friend.

"Ach, ve can make an exception."

I frown. Lucky for him, the Prussian is save from having to answer as the lock _clicks_ loudly.

"You are going to love zhis," he whispers in my ear and opens the door.

I gasp as I enter the secret room, then begin to laugh.

The walls are made of craggy red bricks, and the floors are black-painted wood. I'm in a decent-sized room with high-up, thin rectangles of windows, probably because we're underground, and a smaller room branches off to the right and behind the staircase.

There is a large table in the middle of the main room strewn with boxes of strange tools and heaps of random junk like glitter, balloons, and toilet paper. Shelves line the walls, and they look no more organized than the table. More trash carpets the floor, and I manage to trip over a beer can in my first few minutes here.

The smaller room is only half the size of the main one, and, on one wall, it has a decent television that is surrounded by wood cabinets that hold video games and movies. This room has an intricately woven rug on the floor and a huge, bear-up leather couch. Next to the sofa is a thin steel rod with a sharp turn at the top jutting up from the floor.

Gilbird swoops over my head, ruffling my hair with his furiously flapping wings as he lands on the pole and promptly falls asleep. I laugh, gazing at the Wii remotes and Xbox controllers that are strewn across the carpet.

"Where are we?" I laugh, gawking at… well, _everything_.

"My Awesome Lair!" Prussia cackles maniacally. "It's actually Germany's basement, but I don't zhink he minds."

"So," I clap my hands together and rub them vigorously, an evil smile forming on my face. "Where do we start?"

Prussia grins wickedly, looking like a child at Christmas.

"Right here."

Not thirty minutes later, I creak open the door to the kitchen. Germany and France are still attempting to make dinner, but they don't notice me peer in.

I stick my head back into the den and silently nod to Prussia, who is eagerly waiting at the top of the basement stairs.

I peek back in to watch France and Germany. A few moments later, France's phone rings.

"I'll get it," the man looks relieved at the prospect of a break. I catch his eye as he turns around and motion him over.

"What is it, _Cherie_?" he asks curiously, blue eyes twinkling. I whisper the plan into his ear and he smiles slyly.

"Ohonhonhonhonhonhonhon…" he laughs quietly, "of course, _Cherie_."

I smile and shove him back into the kitchen.

"Hey, Germany," he casually strides back over to Prussia's younger brother, "Why don't you go upstairs and let me finish dinner."

Germany sighs and nods his head reluctantly.

"Okay. I suppose it's for zhe best."

 _Oh, it is_ , I think with a wicked smirk as he tromps upstairs. As soon as I'm sure he's gone, I burst into the kitchen, Prussia at my heels.

"Go get Spain," I tell France, my voice automatically adopting a clear tone of authority. "We don't want him triggering the prank."

The tall man smiles and nods before darting upstairs. I dash back to the basement after Prussia and grab the two huge water guns we'd filled a few minutes ago—but not with water.

Prussia lifts a huge bucket of a sticky white substance like it' nothing, and we dart back upstairs, trying not to drop anything.

Spain and France are waiting for us, the brunette holding a small turtle, and a snow-white dove perched lightly on France's shoulder. Gilbert flits out from the basement and lands on Prussia's head, though he seems used to it.

The albino kneels down and looks up at me expectantly.

"Get on!" he urges. Without a thought, I climb onto his back, and he anchors my legs with his arms. The red-eyed man stands carefully, and France—the tallest—hands me the bucket of glue. Spain opens the door a crack so I can balance the pail carefully.

Prussia backs away, his feet moving slowly and carefully, and I silently slide off his back. France puts a few swift finishing touches on dinner before laying it out on the table.

"Germany!" Prussia calls casually, trying his best not to smile, "It's time for food!"

we prepare our guns excitedly.

"This is going to be awesome!" I can't help bit of maniacal laughter. My prankster friend shushes me, but I can tell he is just as eager to do this as I am.

"I'm coming," I hear Germany rumble as he begins to stomp down the stairs. He opens the door to be greeted with a tsunami of glue.

"Now!" Spain yells excitedly, and Prussia and I shoot him mercilessly with our water guns.

But they're not filled with water.

Like clouds of faerie dust, we spray him with bright pink glitter until it looks like a Barbie doll threw up on him. At first, he can only stand there, a speechless wad of magic. But Spain takes a picture on his phone, and the German snaps.

" _ZHAT'S IT, EAST!"_ He lunges to grab his brother, " _YOU VON'T GET AVAY ZHIS TIME!_ "

Prussia laughs as he dodges his younger sibling. "Zhis time I had help, Brohas."

Germany immediately turns to me. I grin widely and dart around him to stand by Prussia. Germany makes as if to come after us, but Gilbird begins dive-bombing him at a signal from the silver-haired joker. France and Spain simply watch, doubling over with laughter as they film the whole thing.

Prussia grabs my hand and we dart into his lair, Gilbird managing to get away from Germany and whizz into the basement just in time.

The albino slams the door shut, and we both jump when we hear the _bang!_ of Germany ramming himself into it.

"Sorry, West!" Prussia calls tauntingly, "No unawesome people allowed!"

He runs into the door again, and we brace ourselves against it.

"And no exceptions!" my red-eyed friend yells. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No exception?"

Vell," he grins crookedly, "I'm not so sure you're an exception anymore."

A few minutes later, we are saved by a sudden stroke of luck. Amidst the earth-shuddering thunder that is Germany, I barely hear a knock on the front door. The banging stops, and I realize Germany heard it, too.

"Doitsu! We're here!" an excited, high-pitched voice rang out. After a slight hesitation, I hear the angry blonde's footsteps moving upstairs. Prussia and I slide to the floor, laughing hard.

"Who's that? I ask the albino. He sighs contentedly before answering.

"Zhat must be Italy, one of West's less awesome friends. He visits sometimes."

I give Prussia a mischievous look.

"Wanna see his reaction to Germany's new… look?"

the man grins and we both immediately leap up and dash upstairs. We peep into the hall, Gilbird fluttering to land on Prussia's shoulder. He doesn't seem to notice as he peers at his younger brother.

Germany opens the door, and a shortish, happy-looking man with reddish-brown hair that curls hugely on one side of his head beams up at the blonde. Behind him is a taller, calmer man with soft dark eyes and raven black hair that falls over his eyes.

"Italy, Japan, vhat are you doing here?" West looks slightly embarrassed.

"I had the idea to come and surprise you!" the shortest one cries out happily. "Why do you look so pretty?"

he runs a hand down Germany's sleeve and throws the sparkles above him and Japan. He laughs gleefully.

"Doitsu, it's shiny!" he giggles and hugs the German tightly. West smiles slightly before gently prying him off. Italy—that's the curly-haired one, I suppose—is covered in glitter.

"Fine," Germany regains his composure with a huff, "go put your stuff in zhe guest room."

Italy grins widely, and Japan nods politely before walking inside.

"You'd better go get your instrument and stuff," Prussia whispers, "they stay in your room."

My eyes widen and I immediately dash upstairs. When I get to my room, I grab my violin case and bags. Then the two other countries walk in.

Japan stops in his tracks and looks utterly confused, but Italy just smiles even wider.

"Hello, I'm Italy!" he drops his luggage and bounds over, drooling slightly, "what's your name?"

I lean away from the eager little nation.

"Asher…"

"What are you doing here?" Japan asks softly.

"I—er—I'm staying here with Prussia—that is, I'm staying here in Germany because Prussia—"

"Ah, the other one," Japan sighs quietly, "say no more."

I narrow my eyes slightly, tightening my grip on my bags.

"I'll just—"

The door opens and Prussia sticks his head in, Gilbird nestled in his hair.

"Asher," he calls, "come down away from zhose losers."

"No!" Italy hugs me from the side, "can she stay a bit longer, _please?_ "

I pull away and walk briskly to the door. Italy looks sad.

"Later, I guess." I glance quickly over my shoulder. Italy brightens up at the prospect, and Japan's face shows less emotion than a brick.

I go into the hallway, and Prussia shuts the door.

"Dangit," I hiss, "now where will I say?"

"Ach, no vorries," Prussia dismisses the problem with a flick of his wrist. "You can stay in zhe basement."

I sigh in relief and follow along as Prussia leads me downstairs. We're in the first floor hallway when West comes in from the kitchen and stops us.

"Umm… Asher?" he looks pretty uncomfortable. "I just vanted to say… sorry. Ve can be friends, I guess… se… truce?" he holds out his glittery hand, and Prussia takes one of my bags. I spit into my free hand and shake his.

"Thanks, man," I give him a small smile. He looks just as relieved as I am.

Prussia, "subtly" rolling his eyes, takes me b the elbow and leads me to his lair.

Gilbird happily flitters over to his little perch as we walk in.

"Vell," Prussia lays the bag down, and I put my violin case on the table. "I guess ve vill be in here a lot more zhan I thought."

I nod and stand next to the albino. We sight in unison. It really is awesome down here, "I comment, gazing at the beautiful chaos. Prussia smiles.

" _Ja._ It is, isn't it?" should be fun, hanging out here."

I nod thoughtfully. Prussia moves away to throw a few blankets down onto the couch, and I toss a few extra pillows on top.

"Looks good," I chuckle at the albino. He laughs slightly, a short _hah_ before his expression goes glassy-eyed and distant, as if he were remembering something.

"Vait a minute…" he jerks up and runs to the far wall. Prussia clears away some rock posters and a small, slightly frayed map of Europe where Prussia is shaded in bright red, Germany in blue. Behind it all is an old, yellowed calendar.

"Look!" he beckons me over, and I walk up to see that the calendar reads, _"Oktober 1525"._

"What about it?" I ask, "Looks old."

Prussia stares at me like it's obvious, and I have a stupid feeling that it is. _Let's see… today's the twentieth…_

"It's almost Halloween!" he grins. I slap my hand to my face and groan.

"I can't believe I missed that!" I laugh, giving Prussia a small fist bump.

"You ready for this?" the albino beams, and I nod once.

Who said Halloween had to stop when you grew up?


	10. Survival of the Fittest

Three days later, I'm in the middle of making a Halloween costume with Prussia.

"Glitter," the German mutters distractedly, keeping his eyes on his work.

"White again?" I ask, not looking up.

" _Ja._ "

I slide the tube of glitter across the table top, and he promptly proceeds to dump the entire contents onto a blue hoodie. We work in silence for a few more minutes.

"Leather," I say, plucking a few pins from a nearby jar. I feel it skid to my hand and begin to sew it to the sleeves of a shirt. Another period of quiet.

"Zhis is going to be awesome," the albino Prussian's voice sounds from beside me. I laugh and nod thoughtfully.

"Yeah. It will."

More stillness, broken only by the sound of work.

"Four more days," I mutter.

Prussia smirks.

"I have an idea for West's costume."

"Do tell," I purr evilly.

"Hi, Brohas!" Prussia barges into the den, where Germany is putting small marks on a map of the world. He looks up and rolls his eyes.

" _Was_ , East?" He sighs, "And vhy are you dressed like zhat?"

"Halloween," I explain, "It's just around the corner."

" _Ugh_ ," Germany groans, "Vhat do you vant?"

"Stand up." Prussia commands, summoning all the authority of an older brother.

Germany obeys, however grudgingly.

"Now promise me you'll hold still," the Prussian Gilbert says mischievously, his eyes twinkling brightly.

"I promise," Germany looks like he knows he'll regret this, but his curiosity overwhelms him.

"Go," Prussia tells me, and we each burst into action, proceeding to run around Germany with rolls of toilet paper. West's face turns purple as we wrap him up, but he stays true to his word, just like Gilbert said he would.

"Hey Francis, Toni!" Prussia calls, Check zhis out!"

France and Spain dart into the room, quickly followed by Italy and Japan. Spain and France bust into hysterical laughter with us, Japan looking on with a slightly concerned expression on his face. Italy just smiles widely, looking delighted that Germany has decided to let loose a bit.

"Are you dressing up for Halloween too, Doitsu?"

Germany sighs, sending broken ends of toilet paper flying.

" _Nein,_ Italy. Can I relax now?"

"Hang on," Prussia finishes filming on his phone and snaps a picture. "Okay, sure." He snickers. West Germany relaxes his mummified arms and begins pulling off the toilet paper.

" _AAAUGH!"_ I yell, _"It's alive!"_

The Bad Touch Trio burst into laughter once again, and Germany narrows his eyes.

"Very funny," his voice is muffles by the white strips, "I see you brought some humor from America."

A knock sounds from outside the house, several short raps in quick succession. Germany freezes.

"Vhat are you vaiting for, little bruder?" Prussia goads, "Open it."

He sighs loudly, like a pouting child, and tromps down the hall.

" _WAS?!_ " He yell, exasperated, as he opens the door. I peek my head out into the hallway to see what's going on, and the others follow.

Someone shrieks from the other side of the doorway, and I crane my neck to see a mail man.

"Y-you're mail, _Herr_ ," the man holds a bundle of papers in front of him, speaking German. Germany looks embarrassed.

" _Danke, Herr,_ " the muscular blonde says gently, taking the papers with an apologetic look in his eye. "Good man. I'm sorry I yelled."

The Mail man, still looking slightly frightened, gives a quick nod and dashes away to his car. Germany closed the door.

"Anyzhing for me?" Prussia immediately trots over to his younger brother and peers over his shoulder.

" _Nein,_ " West says automatically, shuffling through the letters.

"Of course there is!" the albino exclaims, snatching the mail from Germany, "I AM AWESOME!"

"Wha— _Hey!"_ Germany tries to grab at the letters, but Prussia runs into the den, cackling maniacally. "Give zhose back!"

" _Ooooh,_ who's 'Anonymous'?" I hear him call. Germany looks confused.

"Is it a _giiiiiiiiirl?_ " He sings.

" _Nein, dummkoph,"_ he walks into the room and snatches the letters back, "It means no one knows who sent it. Or at least no one wants us to know."

"Open it," I prod. Germany nods once before tearing the envelope open and reading the letter aloud.

"To zhe Germanic Brozhers und whoever may be vis zhem at zhe time," he begins. We all raise an eyebrow in unison.

"How vell-informed _is_ zhis person?" Prussia looks uncomfortable. His brother shushes him before continuing the letter.

"You have been challenged…" he hesitates a bit before continuing. "… Challenged to a haunted Survival of the Fittest. On zhe twenty-fifth, you will arrive at the following address:" he read out a long, strange-sounding address, "And try to survive the night, three nights in a row. I hope to see you then."

He looks up and doesn't even falter.

"We're doing it."

"I RAISED YOU VELL!" Prussia leaps into the air, laughing hard. I grin at them, my heart pounding in my chest. A "haunted Survival of the Fittest", huh? Well, that sounded like fun!

"Wait," Germany feels around in the envelope. "What's zhis?" He draws out two small slips of paper. "Fake names?" He looks slightly surprised. "Zhese guys _can't_ be serious."

"Vell?" Prussia demands, "Vhat are zhey?"

"East," Germany rolls his eyes, "You're supposed to be called, 'High King Awesome'… Asher, you are _'Schatten_ Hunter'… And I'm…" he trails off and blushes a deep red.

"And vhat about you, Bruder?" Prussia teases, "or are you coming?"

Germany glares at his older brother and sighs.

"I am Professor Ludvurst Beershmidt."

Prussia and I stare at each other, openmouthed, before bursting out into hysterical laughter.

"Hey," Spain cuts in, "if we were invited, our letters should have been forwarded here. Check the rest of your mail!"

Sure enough, there were invitations for a Prince Pasta, Duke Luv E. Dovey, Prince Kioshi, and Squire Tom Ato, all signed Anonymous.

"Wow," France stared at his name slip, a slight rose colour tinting his face. "This should be… fun."


	11. Begun

Early the next morning, I wake to a loud banging on the door to Prussia's lair. I stretch my arms high above my head, yawning widely, and promptly fall off the couch.

" _What?"_ I yell when the crashing knock continues.

"Get up!" Germany's voice shouts back, carrying a slightly irritated tone, "Ve're leaving in an hour."

I grunt in annoyance, grudgingly pushing myself to my feet. "Fine," I hiss, "but there better be coffee up there, or it's gonna be a long day for everyone."

"Allright," the German calls down as he heads back upstairs, footsteps loud and heavy, "but _you_ have to be up on time!"

I mumble an affirmative and stumble to my messy heap of clothes I'd dumped on the floor, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It takes seconds for me to run a comb through my wild hair and paint in some thick eyeliner around my crystal blue eyes. I trod up the stairs in my Shadow Hunter costume and a black tank that reads, "Killin' It," in bright red letters.

I'm exceedingly pleased to find a steaming mug of black coffee waiting for me on the table. Germany's already sitting down, enjoying a cup of his own, so I pull up a chair across from him and we sip our drinks in silence, both enjoying the quiet we knew would not last.

All too soon, Prussia bounds down the stairs in all of his awesomeness, dragging Spain and France behind him. I roll my eyes when I see that, along with his costume, he is wearing a large golden crown and a velvety red cape. Germany and I facepalm, and I refuse to ponder how long he's had that.

"Was?" He asks, grinning cheekily, "I am a high king, after all."

"Gilbert—" I begin, but he immediately cuts me off.

"Please," he 'humbly' holds up a pale hand, "Call me Fritz."

I sigh testily and take a swig of coffee. "Sure. Whatever."

Italy and Japan walk downstairs, lugging their typical expressions as well as a pair of small bags.

"Time to go?" Spain raises a groggy eyebrow, muttering something in Spanish as Prussia swishes past him in his cape.

Germany checks his watch before nodding briskly, seeming to be the only one that is actually fully awake.

" _Ja,_ " he gets up, setting his mug in the sink. "I'll drive is there. It vill take a vhile; it's a day's trip to Scotland by plane—that's vhere ve have to go."

I shiver a bit with excitement—Scotland. I've always wanted to go there, and now's my first chance!

"Let's do this!" My voice is loud and rough, and I grab my bag and dash to Germany's olive green jeep.

"East vill have to drive someone in his car," West Germany states, coming up behind me as I strode outside. "Mine can only fit four."

" _Ooh, ooh!_ " Italy bounces down the steps, "or Japan can take me and someone else in his!" His voice becomes more cheerful as usual, motioning over to a small, compact silver car. Germany nods once before setting out towards his jeep, and I follow close behind.

"All right zhen. Come on."

France, Italy, and Japan pile into the sleek little car that belongs to the silent dark-haired man; the rest of us head towards the jeep in a frantic race for the passengers' seat. I pull ahead of the others, but it takes only a second for Prussia to vault over me and slide into the seat, a triumphant grin on his face. I scowl at him, left to slip into a window seat with Spain, who smiles apologetically at me.

Germany cranks up the engine, slowly pulling out of the driveway, and Gilbert immediately plugs his phone into the Aux cord and starts playing a loud fast song in German, which only gets louder as the albino gleefully turns up the volume.

" _NEIN_!" Germany shouts, slapping the radio off. I only catch a few words, but I hear enough to recognize the band—We Came As Romans.

"But _West…!_ " Prussia puts a whining tone in his voice.

"Nein," the younger brother shakes his head simply. I wait a few moments before speaking.

"Can I listen to my music?" I ask innocently. Germany's gaze flickers my way, and he waits a bit fore giving his brother a pointed look as if to say 'well, at least she _asked_ '.

"Auf course," he speaks aloud, nodding a bit for emphasis. I plug in my phone, muttering " _Danke_ ," under my breath. And, lo and behold, the first song that plays is, 'coincidentally', "Regenerate" by WCAR. Prussia literally lights up, and Germany groans loudly. I ignore them both, mouthing along to the music.

But, despite my efforts to hold back, I soon find myself singing at the top of my lungs alongside Antonio and Prussia—who are singing in Spanish and German.

Half an hour of Fallout Boy and Twentyøne Piløts later, we pull into the parking lot of the airport, Germany leaping out of the car to escape our beautiful cacophony of Fallout Boy's "Phoenix", taking the keys along with him so its just us singing, the music gone.

A few pedestrians shoot us some weird looks, Germany flushing a deep, embarrassed red.

When the song is over, the international trio that is us hop out of the car, one by one, shooting the mortified blonde that is Germany defiant looks as we pass.

I look around, seeing that this is the same airport that my plane had landed in when I'd first come to Germany, and I shook my head immediately, forcing the awkward memories out of my brain.

When we go inside, it's a short trip to our plane's terminal, and a shorter wait for it to open.

When we board the plane, Prussia and I avoid sitting next to each other again, instead convincing Toni to sit between us. France gave us a knowing look, and I give him a threatening one. With a small laugh, he was gone, sitting behind me alongside Germany and Italy.

Soon enough, the plane takes off, and I resign myself to listening to my music and staring out the window at the misty mountains below until, finally, we arrive at the Isle of Skye.

My home.

A tall ginger man smoking a cigar meets us outside the airport, and my breaths quicken as my excitement grows.

"Hello lads, lass. Welcome to Scotland."

I grin widely. This must be the personified Scotland—who else could it be? He looks me in the eye.

"You're from here," he states, brightening up and taking the cigar from his mouth to breathe out a long stream of smoke. I nod once, shaking his hand firmly.

"My parents were, yeah."

"Well," he winks a single bright eye, "welcome home."

He takes us out, past the plunging emerald mountains, magnificent lochs, and crumbling ruins of castles. The very air is taken from my lungs.

And, all too soon, it's over, and we drive up a steep mountain, much higher than the others, until we are entirely enveloped in clouds and mist.

A large, black mansion is waiting fro us, foreboding against the overcast sky. Its gothic structure and imposing height makes me shrink back in my seat. I mentally slap my self and straighten back up. I _will_ conquer this challenge, even if it kills me.

Prussia immediately leaps out of the car when we park, vaulting over my lap. I awkwardly edge out after him.

"Safety with ye, lads," the ginger Scot calls after us as he begins to drive away. "And lass," he adds, smiling at me brightly.

I grin back as he drives away, and we are left at the bottom of a long flight of stone steps leading to a large pair of black double doors. A light rain begins to fall.

"Let's go ahead and go in," suggest Japan, trying to hide under his jacket, to no avail.

We dart up the steps, and Prussia is the first to crash through the doors, screaming, " _ZHE HIGH KING AWESOME IS HERE!"_

About fifteen or twenty different faces turn to look at us. A girl a few years older than me with long brown hair rolls her eyes and turns to resume her conversation with a tall, dark-haired man with glasses and an aristocratic air.

"Go talk to the other countries," France whispers into my ear, giving me a gentle shove forward, and I stumble in the direction of a man with brown hair similar to Italy's. Since I hate human interaction with a fiery passion, I begin to turn to a promising corner I can stand in, but the man's words stop me short.

"Who the **** are you?" he narrows his eyes. "Some new country?"

"Asher," I glare at him until he lowers his gaze. "You?"

"Why should I tell you?" he curses at me. I curse right back. He looks surprised.

"Call me Romano," he nods slowly, and I turn back towards that corner I'd seen earlier and stand in it, staring out at the other nations.

Prussia is the first one I notice, butting in on the brown-haired girl and the aristocrat, who look thoroughly annoyed. Italy runs over to Romano and gives him a huge hug, and Romano looks like he's about to murder someone.

Germany is speaking to Japan and England, France is talking to a tall blonde man with a tulip-shaped quiff. Toni joins Italy and Romano, giving the more abrasive Italian a fierce ruffle to the hair, earning a profane greeting. As I look around, I catch sight of Al, speaking to a man with long black hair that could only be China.

I focus of Alfred—the best friend I haven't seen for so long.

It doesn't look like he's changed much—he's still wearing he well-worn aviator jacket and rectangular glasses. His brownish-blonde hair still falls messily over one brilliant blue eye. He still has an excited smile plastered onto his face.

I sigh.

"You are a friend of America's, _da?_ " a soft voice with a heavy accent sounds behind me.

I whirl around to see a tall man with bright blue eyes, platinum blonde hair, and a muscular build behind me, a slightly creepy smile spreading serenely across his face. He wore a heavy tan jacket and a long, thick scarf that was a creamy white.

"Yeah," I nod at him, deciding to go ahead and introduce myself. "I'm Asher, by the way. Not a country, just me."

His smile grew, and his head tilted to one side, making his light hair fall over his face.

"I am Ivan," he pronounced it like a true Russian, "And you don't seem like the person that I would particularly like to pound into dust."

"… What?" I stand still for a moment, confused. "Thanks, I guess.. neither do you…"

Suddenly, another tall man with pale skin and wild hair tinged a bright lemon comes up, grinning a wide grin that reminds me of myself.

"Hey, guys," his eyes laugh, and his voice carries a lilting tone, "Did Russia say something creep again?" he asks, looking me in the eye. I nod uncertainly. The man laughs.

"It's all right," he slaps me on the back, and I stumble forward, "that's just his way of saying he wants to be friends. Just be glad Belarus isn't here, you know?"

I furrow my brow, but, judging by Russia's terrified expression at the name, I can gather what he means.

"Oh yeah!" the new guy slaps himself before offering his hand for me to shake, "I'm 'Lego King', according to my not, but you can call me Denmark. Or Matthias. Whichever you prefer. And you're Asher, right?"

I nod, still trying to keep up with this guy.

"Okay, so I _did_ hear right. And you should be a country—it's be cool to have you at meetings, you know? 'Cause you seem cool."

I laugh a bit at Matthias, his fast pace and excited tone reminding me of Al and Prussia.

"Hey!" East Germany's voice pierces through my thoughts, as if I'd summoned him just by thinking his name. "Vhat are you losers talking about?" he comes up behind Matthias and me, throwing his arms around out shoulders. He notices Russia and takes a small step back, turning more pale than usual.

And then I see Alfred again, standing a few feet away, a soft smile ready and aimed at me.

"Al," I walk up and smile the gentle smile of someone who knows they've hurt their friend's feelings.

"Hey, Asher," he grins sadly at me. "It's been pretty dull without you. I've been lonely, dude, and Tony hasn't been much help."

I look down at our feet. "I'm sorry," I mutter, "I just had to—"

" _Whoa_!" America interrupts, putting his hands up in front of me. "You got an accent!"

"What?" I step back and actually take the time to listen to my voice.

"I don't zhink zhat my voice has changed zhat much," I say indignantly, then clap my hands over my mouth.

"Was?" I look at Gilbert, confused. He's laughing hard at me, and I growl slightly, giving him a death stare.

"Is a German accent such a bad zhing?" he asks, and I shrug, admitting that it wasn't so bad, but suddenly feeling that much more guilty about leaving Al all alone.

"Oh, yeah," Alfred is either nice enough or clueless enough to release some of the tension. "Knight Hero, at your service."

I laugh as he bows deeply—this was more like the America I knew.

"All right, chaps," England's voice rings out, and I turn to see him standing on a coffee table. "The three days of survival start tomorrow."

"Okay, Lieutenant Colonel Sconemaster!" America laughs loudly, using his fake name. England glares with his thick eyebrows at Al, who laughs even harder. I look to my side to see Denmark and Prussia barely containing their laughter.

" _Any_ ways," England continues, trying his best to ignore everyone else's snickers. I mentally give him an A for effort. "I was going to suggest we start heading off to sleep. We'll need energy to see what exactly this 'Survival of the fittest' thing is about."

"You're not our mom!" a certain Dane calls out. England rolls his eyes and steps off the table with a _huff_ , and, regardless of what anybody said, everyone starts heading off to a group of dorm-like rooms upstairs, including Denmark.

I sigh, exhausted, as I realize this challenge has actually begun.


	12. Checking Things Out

Checking Things Out

The main room, a white-walled square with hardwood floors, oil paintings, and oak furniture, empties fast, and I look around for someone who can help me find out where to go. The clean, vaulted windows show the setting sun that turns the white to gold and the endless fog to blood. I catch sight of a doorless hall leading off to the right side of the atrium to what I assume to be a dining room. A long flight of stairs leads to a long, hall-like balcony that looks down on the main room, and I see that the other side of the balcony is lines with doors.

 _That must be the place_ , I think as I follow the throng of countries up the stairs.

"Do you know which room I go to?" I ask a passing nation, one with large eyes and long black hair.

"I don't know," he shrugs, speaking with a Chinese accent, "but I'd bet Hungary over there does. She _is_ another girl, after all," he nods sagely, stating the obvious as he points to the woman I'd noticed earlier, the one who'd been talking to the aristocrat, who she was now kissing goodnight.

"Erm…" I walk up to the two awkwardly, trying to catch her attention. "Hungary, is it?"

"Yes?" She pulls away from the other nation, who nods curtly at me before walking up the stairs.

"Yeah… where do I stay?" I try my best to look like I actually belong here.

"Oh," she laughs when I told her who'd pointed me to her. "China wouldn't really know. He just got here a few minutes before you did, anyways. But he was right to point you to me, though," she beamed, her green eyes crinkled into summer smiles. "You can room with me, if you like."

"Thanks," I sigh in relief, following her up the stairs and introducing myself.

"I've been staying at Prussia and Germany's house for the past week or two," I say as we stop at a door on the far end. Hungary makes a face.

"Prussia?"

"Yeah," I tilt my head at her. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Don't even get me _started_ on Bielshmidt," she grits her teeth and opens the door.

"Oh," I grin slyly, "on last-name basis, are we?" I laugh loudly.

"Ugh, you're starting to _sound_ like him!" she groans.

"Sorry," I laugh again, this time a bit softer for my new friend's sake.

I peer around the room, setting my stuff on the ground next to a bunk bed. It's decently small, with a small desk against the wall across from the bunk.

The walls are painted a nice, coffee brown, and the russet wooden floors are the same as in the atrium.

Hungary strides over to the desk and turns on a lamp, which lets off a soft, golden light that seems to fill the room with a nostalgic vibe.

I look closely at Hungary. Something about her seems different than what I'd expect from someone like her—in the little things, like the way she walks, quirks in her voice, her eyes and her default expression. She looks kind of like someone who'd spent time fighting, hunting, someone who was confident and fierce. And in this moment, I know we'll be fast friends.

"I'm going to go check out the other rooms," I tell her, putting my hand on the doorknob and making my way out.

"Here," she tossed me a thick frying pan without a thought. I wrinkle my brow.

"What's this for?" I give the "weapon" an experimental swing and find it has incredible balance, almost as if it was made for something more than making pancakes.

"Give Prussia a nice whack for me, all right?" she laughs, light and musical, but with a bold edge. I nod, grinning back at her.

"Of course."

I walk out of the dorm, swinging the frying pan absentmindedly on a finger. There are four other rooms next to ours, and I decide to try all of them.

The room next to ours is full of people I don't know, their arguing floating out of the room as soon as I open the door. It looks the same as ours, but with two bunk beds instead of one—whoever planned this must have been more well-informed than I'd originally thought.

"I _insist_ on a bottom bunk, Netherlands," the aristocrat I'd seen Hungary with earlier addresses a tall man with a blonde quaff and a thick blue scarf, and I notice someone familiar looking on uneasily in a corner.

"Hey," I say, trying to catch their attention. They keep bickering. The shy fellow in the corner gives me a pitying look, a curly strand of hair falling over his rectangular glasses. " _sorry,"_ he mouths.

"Hey," I say, this time a bit more forcefully. They ignore me again. I feel my face getting red.

" _Hey!"_ I yell, and they stop to look at me. "What the heck are you arguing about?" I ask, looking them each in the eye.

"Who the heck wants to know?" The man with the scarf asked, not exactly rudely, but blunt as anything.

"Asher," I narrowed my eyes at him and smirk, looking thoroughly dangerous.

The blonde nods, and I take him to be Netherlands. I nod back.

"Hi!" a violet-eyes man who hadn't been involved in the argument beams at me. He had a friendly, youthful voice and was wearing fluffy Christmas sweater. "I'm Finland! Nice to meet you!" He jumps towards me and shakes my hand violently.

"And you?" I turn to the aristocrat.

"Austria," he looks down his nose at me. "Gilbert may or may not have told you about me. If he hasn't, he surely will, and he will undoubtedly say something idiotic."

I give out a short bark of a laugh. "Yeah, probably." I try to sound friendly, but I can tell this guy really _is_ a prissy aristocrat, and I can't help but dislike him.

" _Aaaaaaannnd_ …" I turn to the curly-hared guy in the corner. "Canada!"

"Who?" the others say in unison, turning to look into the corner curiously.

"Y-yeah?" He speaks softly and looks surprised that I called him out.

"I _knew_ it" I snapped my fingers and gave him a small smile, marking that down as a victory. "Thanks for letting me cut through your country earlier this month, man."

"N-no problem!" he smiles slightly. I feel something small and furry nuzzle my leg, and I look down, startled, to see that it's a polar bear cub. I turn down to pet it for a bit, and it stares at the Canadian, letting out a small, high yelp that sounds vaguely like a question.

"I'm Canada," he looks down, eyes drooping.

I laugh slightly before standing up and turning to step out of the room as Austria and Netherlands start to fight again.

"Asher?" I hear Canada's voice and turn around, halfway out the door.

"Yeah?" I tilt my head.

"T-thanks," he mutters.

I nod, unsure of what he means. "Sure…" I smile softly at him and leave.

The next room houses Prussia, Toni, France, and Denmark, who are each doing their own thing—Prussia filming the Dane, who is fighting an invisible opponent. Spain is petting a small turtle, who had been hiding in his bag and France is staring at himself in a compact mirror. They all look up as I walk in.

"Hai, Asher," Gil speaks in a singsong voice when he hears me enter. He turns to say something else. But leaps back when he catches sight of the frying pan.

"H-Hungary!" He stammers, but relaxes when he realizes it's just me. I laugh at him, giving him a smart whack upside the head.

"Close enough," I smirk, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, so you're rooming vis her?" He pieced things together, giving a mischievous smile before starting a bit. "So you must have met Austria!"

I nod, curious as to where this was going.

"Zhat prissy aristocrat," he hissed, eyes narrowing.

" _Yes!"_ I wholeheartedly agree. "He's rooming with Netherlands, Finland, and Canada, I think."

" _Tino!"_ Denmark laughs and slaps me on the back. I bonk him with Hungary's pan. Toni stifles a laugh as I leave the room, twirling the frying pan on my fingers and leaving behind a stunned Dane.

The next dorm houses Germany, Russia, England, and Japan.

"Hi, Asher," Russia gives a little wave and smiles. I wave back. Germany and England nod, and Japan hardly glances my way. They continue unpacking, and I leave, finding nothing interesting here.

The last room consists of Alfred, China, Romano, and Italy. The latter jumps form a bottom bunk and tries to hug me, but Romano holds him back and curses at him. Italy obediently, if reluctantly, relaxes and settles on waving wildly.

"Hi!" he giggles cheerfully. I give him a quick nod, then turn to face Al.

"Hey," he nods and smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"Was Hungary not able to help?" China looks confused.

"No, no—she was," I correct him hastily, "I'm just checking on everyone else. Who knows?" I say jokingly, giving them a bright smile. "Maybe this place really _is_ haunted!"

I revel in Al's horrified expression.


	13. Murder

Murder

It appears Hungary and I have similar sleep schedules—we both wake up around six-thirty. _Getting_ up, however, is another issue altogether.

"Rise and shine, Asher!" She beams down at me, swiftly clicking the lamp on and drowning me in light.

"Nooooo," I hiss, my eyes narrowed at the sudden burst of brightness, "leave me alone." I swat her away, and she disappears into the bathroom with a snort of laughter.

"Suit yourself," her voice echoes my way as I hear the sink turn on, "It's your own fault if you miss breakfast."

I groan and roll off the bed—completely forgetting I'm in the top bunk until I'm on the floor.

"What was that?" The brunette pops her head out the door. "I thought I heard something—like a loud _thump_. Did you drop something?"

"Yeah," I wince, rubbing my spine as I push myself to my feet. "You could say that."

Not entirely getting it, Hungary just shrugs and goes back into the restroom.

I get ready slowly—partly because I'm tired, and partly because I'm savoring the fact that this "challenge" has already begun.

A few minutes later, Hungary and I are tiptoeing downstairs to the dining room, trying our best not to wake anyone else up.

Breakfast has already been laid out on the table when we poke our heads in the room, and Germany, Prussia, Netherlands, and Japan are already seated.

Hungary and I sit down to wurst and eggs, and there is silence at the table; we're all still waking up.

Prussia sneezes. Japan shakes some salt on his food. I yawn. Then footsteps—a few other early birds are filtering downstairs.

First is Denmark in a long red tank, his hair eyen more wild than normal. Russia doesn't look any different from last night—almost like he never went to sleep. Ivan cracks his neck loudly when he sits down, and everybody jumps.

A few minutes later, there are more footsteps coming down the stairs. Loud ones, fast.

Al bursts into the room, disheveled and panicked.

"China's gone!"

"What?" Netherlands is the first to react, looking slightly confused.

"Re- _lax_ ," Denmark yawns, "he's probably in the bathroom or something."

"I checked there," Al starts pacing, "and it was empty! I looked everywhere else too, even Asher and Hungary's room!"

" _What?"_ The two of us shout in unison, pushing our chairs back as we stand up.

"Calm _down_ , Brohas," Prussia rolls his eyes. "France and Spain vere gone zhis morning, too. I assumed zhey vere already up and doing vhatever—zhey _are_ they're own people."

"I zhink ve should search, just to be safe," Germany stands as everyone nods in agreement.

The search begins. We all go in groups to look and tell the others, and then we promptly disperse throughout the mansion. An hour later, in which everyone steadily got more panicked, we met again in the main room.

"This just won't do," England mutters, pacing the floor. We're all doing whatever releases our stress best, and that happens to be his way.

Italy is hugging Germany, who is staring to breathe heavily. Denmark is banging his head on a wall, which is starting to sound like a metronome. Austria is moving his fingers and muttering softly to himself, while Hungary is nervously fingering her frying pan. Japan is sitting on a couch with his head down, Netherlands is counting under his breath, Prussia is breathing hard and pacing. Romano is cursing at anyone and everyone who tries to speak to him, as well as anyone who doesn't… not much of a change there. Russia is sitting just next to the Italian, looking peaceful and happy with a small potted sunflower in his hands. Canada's in a corner, stroking his polar bear, Finland is humming Christmas carols while I sharpen my knives, and I think Al is in a closet somewhere.

A small gasp from England makes us all jump, and he holds a shaky finger towards an old oil painting of a man.

"L—look…" he moves slightly to one side…

The painting's eyes follow.

Italy screams. Romano curses. Everyone begins to talk, every person, all at the same time.

"Asher," I realize that Russia isn't scared at all as he whispers my name.

"Yeah?" I pant, my eyes darting all around the room.

"Get everyone's attention," he smiles brightly, "I think this calls for a council, _da_?"

"Aren't you scared?" I ask, just now noticing my white-knuckled grip on a knife at my side.

" _N'yet,_ " he shakes his head, "I used to have this same problem at my place back home. Plus, Belarus is _much_ scarier."

I nod. "Fair enough."

Pushing myself to my feet, I scream as loud as I can.

" _EVERYBODY, SHUT UP!"_

Every face in the room turns to me. I clap my hands and rub them together, trying to convince myself I know what I'm doing.

"All right then," I look them each in the eye. "Someone get Al. this _does_ call for a council."

Not two minutes later, America is sitting on the couch, eyes wide with terror.

" _So_ ," Denmark rubs his hands together, "ghost paintings, eh?"

" _Ghost paintings?!"_ He shrieks. I sigh, rubbing my forehead. If there's one thing Al's scared of, its supernatural things. I put a comforting hand on my friend's shoulder.

"Vhat should ve do?" Germany takes over, and I give him a grateful look. "Ve can't really stop zhe kidnappers until ve know who zhey are."

"Good point," England nods nervously. "But… how will we find them?"

Suddenly, the lights begin to flicker, then they turn out entirely. Before anyone can turn on a flashlight, Italy screams. Finland yelps. And all is silent as the lights turn back on.

Finland and Italy are gone, nothing left but a few specks of blood where they had been standing.

Everyone stands, yells, curses, screams threats, but no one is as furious, as completely filled with bloody rage, as Romano and Germany.

Romano is shouting curses so terrible, the killer probably bursts into tears wherever they are, along with Austria. Germany is trying to punch holes in the wall, the skin on his knuckles splitting and bleeding. He doesn't seem to notice, or care.

" _Everyone!_ " I shout, not any less angry than the majority, "look for clues! They _had_ to get in and out that quickly somehow, and nobody head footsteps on the stairs!"

"She's right!" Hungary shouts, and everyone begins to search the walls, floors, windows, _anywhere_.

"Here!" Japan pulls on a candlestick affixed to a wall. A large section of the wall swings open to reveal a passage, pitch-black and reeking of death. A thin trail of blood leads right down the middle, and I see Germany and Romano give ach other a look. They begin to walk towards the secret hall.

"W-west?" Prussia begins, reaching out with a shaky hand to stop his brother, but Germany and Romano break out into a run. They don't look back as the wall swings shut behind them. As Russia and I hold a screaming Gilbert back.

The door seals itself shut. The candlestick lever falls off the wall.

" _NEIN!"_ Gilbert throws himself against the wall, slamming his fist down on it. He curses, almost as boldly as Romano, and he doesn't stop until his throat is a hoarse mess.

I see tears fell down his face, hot and wet, streaming form flame-red eyes.

" _Nein!"_ He shouts between curses and threats.

We look on, no one wanting to say anything. After a few minutes, I realize how badly Prussia needs comfort, mainly so he doesn't try to take his fury out on anyone else by making his threats come true.

"Gilbert," I put a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugs it off.

"It's… it's _East_ ," he laughs weakly, tears still streaming down his face. "Zhat's vhat Germ calls me."

He looks like he's about to collapse, but I steady him. Facing the wall, he composes himself, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He waits a second.

Before whirling round to punch Japan in the face.

The typically calm, collected man stumbles back in shock and pain, clutching his bleeding nose. This time, Denmark helps me hold back the Prussian, both of us trying our best to keep him from murdering anyone.

When he stops struggling, we let go. He falls against the wall, sliding to the floor. I slide down next to him, and he mumbles something under his breath.

"What?" I ask, putting an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"I will find the killer," Prussia speaks louder and glares defiantly at the gathered countries. "And I will kill him."

I smirk at my friend, nodding in agreement.

"And I will help."

 **A/N Hey, no spoilers, but there's going to be a lot of angst from here on out. You know, if you couldn't already tell from the chapter title.**


	14. Ghost

Ghost

That night, everyone is woken by crashing thunder and blinding lightning. Not that we would have gotten much sleep anyways—everyone was terrified of being kidnapped in the overwhelming darkness.

By midnight, everyone is gathered in the main room except Russia, who is still sound asleep in his dorm.

We are all still sitting in the atrium when the power goes out. Screams echo through the mansion, but nothing happens. Lightning flashes, stark white and deadly, but it reveals that everyone is still here.

Soon enough, we settle back into our original state of fear and exhaustion.

Lightning flashes again, lighting up the room and turning my vision to black and white for a second. Then comes the thunder, and we all jump in the half-light. After a while, England cautiously moves over to sit with me in the corner. Both our backs to the wall, we each stare at the window, jumping at every burst of lightning and thunder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his bright blue eyes flickering over towards me.

I sigh.

"If you want to say something," I whisper, "then _say_ it."

"Er, right," he nodded, clearing his throat uncomfortably before turning to face me. I kept looking straight.

"I'm sorry I was such a snot to you back in London." His voice is a hoarse mumble, just loud enough for me to hear it. I stay silent, giving him a single nod. After a few minutes:

"It's all right."

I didn't really believe my own words, and I could tell Kirkland didn't either.

"Really," he persisted, his voice raising a bit, "I mean it. I guess I just felt… jealous."

"Jealous?" I turn to look at him, incredulous. The sky groans, and we start. "How?"

England shrugs. "Jealous that Alfred has friends that would embarrass themselves in public to get to him. To be honest, I didn't really believe him when he told me he had other friends."

I let out a soft _huff_ of a laugh. "I don't blame you. But thanks. Really, though, it's all right. I'd probably act like a jerk too if you'd made a bad first impression on me."

England begins to smile, but my vision bleached a pure white with a flash of lightning and a collective jump.

Arthur takes a shaky breath and continues.

"Yes, well," he smiles again, this time his nervousness showing clearly in it, "I suppose I already have."

We sit in silence, and the clouds below the mansion rumbling ominously.

"For the record," I give him a small nudge, "I would embarrass myself to see what _you_ wanted, too."

England laughs it off, but I can tell that made him feel a bit better.

"Thanks, Asher," he beams.

A few minutes that feel like hours later, Al tiptoes over and sits on my other side. He's shaking with terror, and he grabs my hand in a white-knuckled grip.

"You okay?" I ask gently.

" _No,"_ he narrows his eyes and he stares out the window. "I _hate_ being scared, but not knowing why." The angry sky screams once more, and he huddles into my shoulder.

"Don't worry," I pat his head awkwardly. "At least there aren't any ghosts, right?"

at that moment, Russia comes down the stairs, his usual serene smile at the ready. When he reaches the last step, a bright light flashes into existence in the middle of the room—and it's definitely _not_ lightning.

Al jumps and hides his face in my shoulder, gripping my arm tightly.

"Spoke too soon, eh?" Kirkland chuckles nervously.

The ghost takes the shape of a young woman and seems to stare us all in the eye before speaking to us in a voice that can be best describes as a harmony of wavering, off-sync voices.

"Find the killer by the end of the third day," she hisses unfeelingly, "or you will all die."

Everyone looks around, and Al shudders even harder.

"You have been warned," she speaks one last time before disappearing. No one moves.

Lightning illuminates every face in the room, but Prussia stands out more than any other. He is seated alone, staring out the window. Brooding. Festering. He doesn't have his usual smirk or cheeky grin. He looks sad.

But determined.

The lights flicker back on, and by the expressions on people's faces, they're still trying to comprehend what just happened. I still am, too.

"Can't we just leave?" Austria is the first to react, reaching for the door handle. Everyone nods along, but Hungary's eyes widen in terror.

"No, _wait!_ " The brunette shouts frantically, "It's probably rigged!"

the Austrian just looks at her, confused, as he grabs the handle. The lights flicker again, and nothing is left of the aristocrat but a skeleton.

" _Austria!"_ The Germanic girl shrieks, running towards the emotionless skeleton.

"Wait," England stands solemnly. "I know you're miserable, Hungary, but before we do anything, we _must_ check the rooms for more traps."

"Hey, that's actually a good idea!" Denmark stands with a decisive nod, and with that, we all disperse into groups, Russia and I walking over to comfort the crying Hungary.

"Let's go upstairs," the woman wipes away the tears from her emerald eyes and puts on her game face. I have to admit, I'm impressed. She just lost one of her closest friends, but she gets she has to save everyone else before she mourns.

I nod respectfully, and we go out to search anything we can find upstairs. It doesn't take long for us to find something.

"What's this?" Russia points to a small device that was painted the same colour as the walls and hidden in a nook in the ceiling. It would be near impossible to notice if we weren't actually looking for it, but it's there, without a doubt. Even as I stare at it, it takes me a few minutes to figure out what it is.

"A projector!" I finally exclaim after a moment of squinting at the object. Russia and I point to the device, calling down to the others, and Hungary runs down to gather them up.

"Guys, look!" I yell before dashing downstairs, leaving the Russian to bound after me, deceptively graceful for such a big man.

Al looks where we'd been pointing and narrows his eyes furiously.

"That means a _person's_ been doing this!" He screams in outrage, all fear forgotten.

"But… who?" Japan raises the question that's on everybody's mind. Silence throughout the mansion, save for the dull booming of the thunder outside.

Again, Japan is the first to speak, surprisingly talkative for a normally quiet man.

"I think it's Prussia," he states, no change in his expression visible. "He's always pranking us…"

I glance in the albino's direction—he's barely holding in his rage.

"But Germany was killed," Netherlands points out, blunt as ever but quite possibly saving Japan's skin. Before he can say anything else, all pandemonium erupts in the atrium, a gaggle of voices and shouts crowding the house as everyone voices their opinions and theories at the same time.

All too soon, it escalates into a full-out fight.

"It think it's Russia!" Someone shouts above the din, "Everything always happens when _he_ shows up!"

Next to me, Russia smiles brighter.

"You will tell me who said this, _da?_ " He doesn't need to shout for his voice to be heard.

"Maybe _America!_ " Another voice accuses, ignoring the Russian. "Maybe he just wants another chance to be a hero!" This guy catches a fist to the jaw.

"Tell that to my _face_ , _punk!"_ Al screams, sending another punch his way.

"Or the new girl!" I glare in this voice's direction as he continues. "Who _knows_ what she's capable of?!"

" _Hey,_ _loser_ _you want a_ _piece_ _of_ _this_ _?!"_ I yell defiantly, throwing myself into the midst of the melee. Before things get even worse, Prussia's voice rises above the clamor, echoing through the halls long after the room floods with silence.

" _EVERYONE SHUT YOUR STUPID FACES!"_

The words ring in our ears, and slowly, but surely, everyone relaxes. Prussia sighs.

"If Germany…" he begins to speak, but his voice breaks a bit. Clearing his throat, he starts over. "If Germany were here, he would say that we can't fight amongst ourselves. We don't have _time_ for that. All this time we just spent fighting, we could've spent _finding_ zhe losers that did this and beating zhe _crap_ out of them. Plus… we've known each other forever. Though we've not always been on good terms…" at this, his gaze sweeps around the room, and he stares each of the other countries in the eye with his steely red gaze, "…we come through. I thing ve _all_ remember the Pictonians? Zhe ones who made everything white?"

I stare around the atrium, seeing the others nod their heads solemnly.

"We came together for zhat zhen, we can come together for zhis now. Just for a day or two, _ja?_ " he ads this last bit with a wry smile, and everyone else joins in with a short laugh here and a nostalgic grin there. Even judging by their expressions, I can tell that everyone actually agrees with Prussia for once.

"So let's stay in groups from now on," England breaks in, "so we won't be taken as easily."

"Good plan," Netherlands nods once, his expression unchanged.

"I've gotta go take a wazz," Denmark puts in cheerily. "Let's go!" Immediately, he darts upstairs, America and Canada following close behind.

"I'll take a group, too," Netherlands sighs, followed by Japan and Russia as he heads the same way

Everyone else is left to wait.


	15. Pursue

Pursue

Thunder is still crashing, lightning still imprinting negative images onto our retinas, but nobody is flinching. It sounds crazy, but the appearance of the ghost and the realization that a human was causing this had released some of the tension in us.

The first group comes back, Denmark looking relieved beyond belief, and we sit to wait for the other group.

I'm on the couch, idly chatting with my Danish friend when we realize something—Netherlands' groups hasn't returned.

"Someone go check on them," England's nervousness shows in his quivering voice, and Al immediately jumps up.

"I'll do it!" He runs upstairs with a shout of " _I'm a hero!"_ He is considerably less afraid now that he knows nothing supernatural is going on.

"Be careful!" Hungary calls after him, on guard after Austria's brutal demise. There's a few seconds of shared panic before we hear America's voice.

"Guys!" He yells, darting over to peer down at us over the rail, "You might want to see this!"

Everyone shoots an unnerved glance at one another before darting upstairs after our friend. When we get there we immediately notice a harsh, green-tinged glow that seeps through the cracks of the bathroom door.

"Oh _crap,_ " I hiss, taking a surprised step back.

"We have to get in there!" Hungary exclaims, and Denmark immediately pipes up in a lilting shout.

"I've got it!"

He takes a few steps back, a determined glared on his face, before ramming violently into the white-painted door. It doesn't budge.

Getting over my initial shock, I join in, and we bot run into it together, achieving only a faint cracking sound.

" _Third time's zhe charm,"_ Prussia whispers, running up to help, and the door is torn off its hinges.

Everyone dashes to the bathroom, not knowing what they might see.

No one's there.

"I can't believe it," England mutters.

"They got Russia."

At that moment, it really dawns on is what we're up against. These people are serious.

"They took them in the middle of a pee," Prussia states disbelievingly, eyes narrowed.

"That's _low_ ," All hisses.

And now it's just England, Denmark, Hungary, Prussia… and me.

" _Ohhhh…"_ the Brit fumes, stomping his foot angrily. "This _just_ won't _do!_ We _can't_ give them the satisfaction of letting them take us!"

"You said it, Iggy," Al huffs, actually agreeing with England for once.

It's dawn of the final day, and my heart feels like it's about to rip out of my chest.

"Calm _down_ , Brohas," Prussia puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I jump at least a foot up in the air. Angry in my stress, I shake is hand off, spinning around to glare at the albino.

"I don't _need_ your sympathy," I hiss. The Prussian only smiles softly at me.

"Ve're _all_ nervous…" he probably means to be reassuring, but coming from Prussia, he just sounds sardonic.

I sigh and stare at my feet.

"I know. You don't have to tell _me_ twice." I sigh again, this time in frustration. "I just wish I could _get_ these guys," I slam my fist into my palm and look up at my red-eyed friend expectantly, "you know?"

He nods solemnly. " _Ja._ I know."

"So what are we waiting for?" Denmark butts in on our conversation, grinning wildly. "Let's go find them!"

"Easier said than done," Hungary speaks up, a bitter edge to her voice, and our morbid spirits slither back to replace our impulses. "There are traps all over the place, and I don't want to be _killed_ while searching for the _killers_."

"You're right," England walks over to the wall next to us. "We should think of a plan."

"I _really_ don't care," Prussia narrows his eyes. "Like Asher said, I just want to _get_ zhese guys."

"You know, do some _bashing_ ," I grin wickedly, fingering a knife at my belt.

With a tired nod, England leans against the wall. I prick my ears at a sudden clicking sound, and feel the blood drain from my face.

"What was that?" I ask, looking around in terror.

"What?" The Englishman cocks his head to one side.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as a hatch in the ceiling swings open, a large plastic dome letting gravity take over as it moves in to close over the nation like a predator's maw. the screams of the rest of us seem to drown out as England's painfully oblivious expression carries on until his is enveloped in plastic.

 _What?_ I see him mouth, still confused even when he notices the trap. His eyes grow wide as he finally realizes, what had happened.

 _Help!_ His voice is inaudible as he pounds on the walls of his prison, and we all rush towards the cage to try to lift it—it doesn't move a centimeter.

The lights flicker again, and when they flash back on, all that is left of England is a puddle of flesh-coloured goop.

Hungary claps her hands over her mouth.

Gil bends over, hands on his knees, and looks as if he might throw up.

Alfred yelps and quickly turns away.

Denmark and I narrow our eyes in disbelief and take a few steps back.

"A-Arthur…?" Al whimpers.

Prussia vomits.

I shakily voice everyone's thoughts, running on pure willpower.

"We need to find the killers," I manage. "And soon."

Us remaining begin to scour the area, testing anything that could possibly be an entrance to the murderers' lair.

"Hey, guys!" America calls from across the room while pointing at an old painting of a meadow. "I think I—"

The lights flicker, and Al disappears.

 _"_ _No!"_ I scream, running to the oil painting.

"Wait—" Hungary holds me back and points to the picture. There Al is, standing in the meadow, frozen in place.

None of us move, out of the four that are left, and I hold back my tears, I don't cry—if Al really is dead, I will avenge him. That should hold me over for at least a few more hours.

Suddenly, a wall opens up, the same one Germany and Romano had disappeared into days before. We all swerve to look at it, eyes wide and terrified. I reach for my knife, resting my hand on the hilt.

And all at once, several assassins burst through the opening, melting out of the shadows like wraiths in black, and I'm frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

One draws a throwing knife, and I can see his deep black eyes staring directly at me. My heart stops, and I lower my weapon—it's useless for throwing, made specifically for melee battles. The mercenary raises his arm, aiming directly at me.

I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable slipping of the daggers between my ribs and the razor sharp blades piercing my flesh.

It never comes.

I hear several sickeningly dull _thunks_ , but I feel nothing. I slowly open my eyes, unsure of what I would I would see.

Prussia is standing in front of me, facing the quickly retreating assassins. He turns his head marginally in my direction, a slightly surprised expression on his face.

Then he collapses.

The albino Prussian stumbles back a few steps before hitting the floor, and he is shaking violently when he falls, revealing five or so of the small weapons buried in his torso. Blood oozes steadily from his wounds, staining his dark blue hoodie.

" _Gilbert!"_ I lean over him, running my hands across his neck to feel for a pulse, hoping it would be steady and strong. My gaze sweeps over his wounds, but I don't want to pull any of the knives out of him, for fear he would bleed to death.

"It's…" he coughs loudly, blood dripping from his mouth and splattering my pale face. "It's _East_ …" he laughs shakily. "Zhat's… zhat's what Germany calls me… are… are you okay…?" his bright red eyes show his concern.

"Yeah…" I nod at him, not wanting to do much more. I lay a hand on his shoulder, and he reaches up to grasp my arm in a weak grip. "Yeah, I'm fine, but you—"

"Good…" he sighs and smiles serenely. "Now help me wash up, vould you…? Ve need to go beat up those b…"

Prussia falls silent and stops shivering. His grasp on my arm grows limp, and his hand falls to the floor.

" _Nein,_ " I breathe as I check his pulse.

Nothing.

Something we runs don my face. Hungary squats down beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

"It… it must be raining…" I say unemotionally, my face a blank slate. I don't cry.

"No…" the brunette gently lifts me up.

"It's raining."

No one says anything for a moment.

"… okay, Asher."

Then silence, cold, dead silence.

"I-I guess it's just us," a small, quiet voice mutters from behind up. I jerk up, surprised, and whirl around to find the last person I'd expected to be here.

"Canada?" I exclaim incredulously, "I thought they'd gotten you!"

"I… I guess they just forget me…" he smiles softly.

That's when the door reopens, and the assassins dart back out, grabbing the albino's corpse and dragging him to the entrance. My eyes narrow.

" _Nein!"_ I shout, and the remaining four of us run after them, following them into the dark tunnel.

" _ICH WILLE TOTEM DICH!"_ I scream, remembering my pistol and yanking it from a hidden pocket. I try to shoot the killers while I run, but I miss miserably, my arm jerking with each step.

Hungary runs beside me on my left, holding her frying pan high, and Denmark has my right, giving a huge battle axe he'd brought out an experimental swing. Canada and his polar bear cub take the rear, looking surprisingly fierce.

"Where'd you get _that_?" I ask the wild Dane, nodding towards his axe.

"Never leave home without it," he shrugs, not entirely answering my question.

We continue running through the dark passage as it gently slopes downwards, and I hear the door slam shut behind us—there's no going back now.

After several minutes of running, we come upon a dark, circular chamber with walls of cold stone and dim, flickering torches dripping oil on the ground.

We stop short in the middle, gaping around us. The walls are lined with assassins, each indistinguishable in their long, hooded cloaks.

Canada, Denmark, Hungary, and I get back to back, each preparing our weapons with a morbid, yet determined air. I feel a bead of cold sweat run down my forehead.

"It's been a good run," I keep my eyes on the quickly tightening circle of murderers.

"A pleasure," Denmark agrees. The others murmur their own affirmatives.

Suddenly, the circle parts, and Prussia's corpse is dragged down a steep, mildewing staircase and unceremoniously dumped in my line of sight. One of the taller figures begins to run towards it, but is held back by several others. A few muttered words from one, and he stops struggling.

Suddenly, laughter echoes through the chamber—strangely familiar laugher.

I gasp and lower my weapon when I realize who it is.


	16. Problem Solved, Problem Gained

Problem Solved, Problem Gained

" _England?"_ I jerk up in shock, my eyes widening to roughly the size of Denmark's hair.

"Yes!" the blonde Brit pulls back his cowl and laughs maniacally. "My prank worked out _perfectly!_ "

"Your… your _what?_ " My voice is shaking with anger, and I can see that Denmark and Hungary have the same semblance of an expression that I do. "But what about _East!?_ "

"Oh, _him?_ " He waves his hand dismissively in the air, rolling his eyes. "There were drugs in those _kunai._ I told Japan to make sure they didn't go as deep as they looked, too." A figure across the room lowers his hood with a small nod—it's Japan. He walks over to the albino that lay sprawled out across the cobblestone floor, explaining how the drugs had put him into a coma. I watch as the raven-haired nation pours a thick, white liquid down Prussia's throat, and I feel my blood freeze.

A few seconds pass by, consisting of death-like silence and the gradual tightening of my muscles.

Blood red eyes flutter open, and the platinum-haired Prussian jerks up, sputtering and coughing. I feel a lump rise in my throat as I realize that my friend isn't dead…

He isn't gone…

He's still here.

I run over to the pale man, sliding down to him on my knees and wrapping him into a tight, protective hug. He give me a startled look before awkwardly hugging my back, utterly confused.

"Wh—What happened?" His voice is a hoarse whisper, and he lets out a harsh, guttural cough. I ignore him to turn to Denmark angrily.

"Were you in on this?" I demand, but he isn't listening. Instead, he's staring at one of the smaller assassins, and I follow his gaze to see a head of bright lemon hair.

"F—Finland…?" His voice cracks a bit, but he doesn't care. The Dane drops his battleaxe, darting over to his friend and wrapping him in a brotherly embrace.

"Oh, thank _God_ you're okay…"

I take that to mean he wasn't in on it, and Spain answers for me, shedding his long, black cloak.

"None of us were originally part of the plan," he shakes his head slowly. "We were told what to do once we'd been 'taken out'."

"Wow," I state disbelievingly as I lift Prussia to his feet, Germany coming over to help. "Just wow."

"So?" England grins hugely, striding over towards me. "Was that an awesome Halloween prank?"

I sigh, pressing a hand to my forehead.

"England," I mutter, "I really hate you."

He looks crestfallen.

"But…" I manage to give him a wry smile, "I have to admit, it was pretty elaborate. I'd give it maybe an eight out of ten…"

The Englishman grins boyishly.

"So you forgive me for the scares?"

I frown, wrinkling my nose.

"Not just yet," I scowl, and, without hesitation, slap him hard across the face, a solid _smack!_ resounding throughout the underground. He lets out a sharp cry of pain, and I'm satisfied to see a small slice of red on his cheek and a sickly yellow bruise forming around it.

"Okay, now I do." I nod decisively.

England recovers quickly, letting out a small chuckle. "Yeah," he sighs," I suppose I deserve that."

We walk down the steps, all changed people. No one had been hurt—except England, of course—but we'd all become so much closer through this. Most of us are cool with England again by the time we go—well, all except France.

We each leave for our respective countries, and Halloween comes and goes without anything really interesting happening—though it would be exceedingly hard to top England's sick joke.

Prussia and I invite Matthias over to come trick-or-treating with us like mature adults, partly because he was the only one who actually would. We each come back to the Germanic Brothers' house with bags full of candy, and we stumble through the door, essentially drunk off sugar.

The glitter from Prussia's costume is all in Denmark's hair, the Dane is physically incapable of standing on his own two feet, and my eyeliner is smeared to the point of no return.

" _EAST_!" Germany's voice is the first thing we hear when we walk through the door—though he heard us before we even got out of the car. "Get your stupid drunk friends to _shut up!_ "

I laugh distractedly at the angry German, but lower my voice anyway as I continue to chatter with two of my best friends. Yet, despite all our efforts to recover, we soon fall into a pit almost as deep as a fandom—the pit of a sugar crash. Even _Denmark_ is exhausted, which says a _lot_.

"Er, _Brohas?"_ I stare at the Dane as his head begins to droop. "You _might_ not want to drive home like that…" I end with a groan when my headache hits.

"No…" he moans back, "probably not. Mind if I crash here tonight?"

" _Nein,"_ Prussia tries to laugh away his sugar hangover. I doesn't work, judging by his pained wince.

"Ve should be heading off, anyvays," the Prussian checks his watch, so out of it he probably doesn't even see the numbers. I peer over his shoulder and hiss softly. It's four in the morning—we'd been begging stranger for candy for about nine hours.

"I'll go down to the lair," I yawn, using the common name for the Germanic brothers' basement without thinking. Denmark raises an eyebrow before passing around a bottle of Advil and a mug of water.

"Nevermind," I'm too tired to explain. The Dane shrugs, and I leave before he can say anything else.

Light streams through the window that sits at the top of the wall, and I blink my crusted eyes open.

"Ow," I mutter, shading my face with my arm until my eyes adjust to the bright wash of morning. Listening closely, I can't make out any noise from upstairs. For a while, I just sit, savouring the peace, reveling in a rare opportunity to rest my mind as well as body. A quick glance from a clock overhead tells me it's seven-thirty.

 _Hmph,_ I think, stretching my pale arms high overhead and straining my muscles. _I feel great for someone who's only had three hours of sleep…_

I feel my joints snap into place after staying in place for several hours. Taking that at my cue to sit up, I let my blankets fall off, and immediately regret my decision. It's freezing!

The cold draws out the goosebumps from my flesh, and I begin to shiver violently.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm in a basement during a German fall, or maybe it's just that I was used to being huddled in a pile of covers in the early morning, but either way, I'm still cold.

Pulling a thick, puffy blanket over my shoulders, I pad upstairs, my feet barely making a sound on the hard, icy floors.

Germany is sitting alone at the table, staring off into space. He looks dead for a minute, not moving at all as I stand in the doorway.

Finally, he takes a distracted sip of his coffee, which I take as a signal to enter. I pour myself a mug of coffee and sit across from the burly blonde, not saying a word—just observing.

We drink our liquid caffeine in silence, and I'm sure I'm not the only one remembering the morning we left for the Halloween challenge.

"What's wrong?" I ask after a while. I knew something was wrong, if only because I'd never seen Germany this distant before.

West shakes his head slowly, taking his time to answer.

"It's zhe first day auf November," he states after a while. I pause, not sure what to make of that.

"And…?" I prompt after a bit, confused. "What's so bad about that?"

Germany sighs harshly, draining the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

"East. You'll see."

He knows that didn't help at all, but says nothing. Soon, I resign myself to waiting.

It's only half an hour before Prussia trudges downstairs, a solemn expression touching his face. His movements are automatic and stiff, like a rusted machine that's forgotten its purpose.

He reaches into the fridge, pulling out a jar of a thin, brownish liquid from the highest shelf. Grabbing a huge glass mug, he pours the beverage into it, taking a nice swig. The surprising scent of alcohol floats towards me as he turns his back on us, staring out the window at the dull brown landscape.

"He's a morning drinker?" I whisper to Germany, my voice soft enough to be unheard by the albino.

"Not usually," the blonde shakes his head, "but sometimes he needs it. I watered down some beer for him the other day and hid all of our stronger stuff…"

His voice trails off uncertainly, and I try not to dwell on what that implies, instead choosing to walk over to my friend and stand just behind him, figuring he needed my presence rather than my words.

We stand in silence for what feels like forever before the Prussian speaks.

"It's so cold out," his voice is a soft mutter, and his eyes remain fixed on the landscape around us. "Why doesn't it snow already?"

I shrug slowly, not really knowing how to respond. Prussia sighs, his weak puff of air already carrying the scent of his alcohol.

"It's so cold…" he repeats softly, turning to shuffle into the living room. I wait a moment before peering in to see him curled up in West's armchair, covered in a fluffy blanket and sipping on his beer. He doesn't look me in the eye, or look my way at all. He doesn't even seem to be looking at _anything_ , or even on earth at all. I can tell he won't be moving for a while. I tiptoe back into the kitchen, leaving him in "peace".

"Is he okay?" I ask Germany, my eyes wide with worry. It's scary to see someone who's typically so open and upbeat suddenly become so…

…so sad.

"He vill tell you vhen he is ready," West stares into his coffee, face void of all emotion. I turn back to look at East, who is completely motionless except to clutch at his chest, as if in pain.

It is in that moment that I realize exactly how important the impish, if egotistical, Prussian is to this household.

 **A/N**

 **Yep, the angst is here. Definitely here. Well, I hope you guys liked this chapter, and I'm sorry for not posting in an eternity. From here on out, I'll most likely post a chapter in this a week, if not more—the whole story's already written out, so I just have to copy it on my old friend the laptop, and then we'll be set! I welcome any and every review with open arms, and I like to reply to them (that is, if I have anything good to say besides hi). I appreciate most feedback—your thoughts, criticism, or even jokes, you know? Whatever goes, goes. But if it's just being a jerk to any troll who may be reading this, you can keep it to yourself.**

 **Yeah, I'll shut up now. Wow I'm not usually this long-winded and social (if that's what you could call this). It's got me tired. I'm probably off to hibernate until it's time for the next chapter.**

 **Later~**


	17. Confessions Help in the Tattoo Parlor

Confessions Help in the Tattoo Parlor

A week passes, a week where each morning, the alcohol Prussia drinks gets stronger and stronger. Wherever Germany hid the more potent stuff, it wasn't a good enough spot. The morning after I first saw Prussia in his state of melancholy, he came down and filled his mug with dark, undiluted beer.

I'd made to get up and stop him, thinking this could only get worse, but Germany laid a heavy hand on my shoulder with a gentle shake of his head.

 _He needs it,_ the blonde had mouthed at me. I glared at him, but nodded reluctantly. Sure, I'd listen to the albino's younger brother, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

Every morning, Prussia wanders down, gets his alcohol, and complains about the cold. That's all there is.

Yes, a week passes, but I do nothing. My worry grows and grows, but I decide to wait for Prussia to come out. Germany had said the Prussian would tell me when he was ready, and he _is_ his brother _._ He knows the snowy-haired man best, right?

A few more days pass, in which my trust in Germany's knowledge swiftly disappears. And as that trust weakens, my resolve grows stronger.

This morning, I finally snap. Though, it's not hard to tell why—Prussia walks down, grabs his mug, and pours the strongest bottle of vodka the Germanic brothers own into the glass with shaking hands.

 _Well,_ I frown as the smell hits me full in the face, _you can't get much more alcoholic than that._

Watching as he doesn't even seem to notice the first sip, my frown turns into a scowl.

 _Yep,_ I push myself to my feet. _I've had it._

Before walking to the living room, I turn my head and look Germany in the eye. There's no doubt that he already knows what I'm going to say.

"I'm going to talk to him," I hiss, a glare in my words as well as on my face. My tone of voice heavily implies that there's no way the German can convince me otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, Germany looks down, choosing not to say anything at all. Without another word, I roll my eyes and stride into the den, where Prussia's huddled up in more blankets than usual. It's been steadily getting colder, I've noticed, and I'm sure Prussia has, too.

"It's so _cold_ out," he looks up at me for the first time in over a week, red eyes drooping.

"Come here," I command, none too gently. The albino obeys, blank as a clean slate. Grabbing him by the wrist, I begin to drag him down to his lair.

"Vhere are ve going?" He doesn't seem interested at all, just talking for the sake of it with his sad undertones—the same sadness that's become his signature look now.

"We're going to talk about whatever the heck's wrong with you," I narrow my eyes, getting more and more angry at this change in personality he's showing.

Prussia nods, his expression unchanging.

"Vhatever."

Soon, we're sitting on the cold floor of his basement, silence filling the gap that's been growing. I'm propping his arm up on my knee, drawing an intricate dragon on his skin with a dark black sharpie as I wait for him to start talking.

He watches for a while, his melancholy eyes following my hand as it moves around his arm. Finally, he begins to speak.

"I'm… I'm sorry I've been acting… strange lately," he murmurs sullenly. "I just can't… _help_ it."

"It's all right," my reply is automatic, spoken from a tongue of silver. My eyes don't move from my work. Prussia sighs and shakes his head, clenching his fist.

" _Nein_ , it's not! I've been shutting you out, and you don't even know vhy. I've been ignoring you all week—but it's not just you. It's _everyone._ Frankly, I'm surprised I'm even talking to you, considering vhat day it is."

I take a quick glance up at his old German calendar—it's the ninth of November.

 _He vill tell you vhen he is ready_ , Germany's words echo in my mind. So far, he hasn't told me anything.

Half an hour later, I finish the dragon. I get ready to start something else on his hand, but he stops me, gently prying the sharpie from my fingers. Silent as a cat, he begins to sketch a broken chain twining around my arm.

"Vhen I vas young," he begins, showing no emotion, "I had a ruler—my best friend, you could say. I called him 'Old Fritz'." He laughs bitterly.

"It vas hard on me when he died—no one else liked me very much. Probably because I was so aggressive. I'd conquered everyone around me until I had the strongest army in Europe. My life was perfect."

He looks down, tightening his grip on my wrist. I feel the cold, black ink push harder.

"I never liked Hitler," he muttered, "but he _forced_ West and I, like he forced so many others, to do stuff we _never_ would have done. I was happy when the Allies came, and when the walls went down. Finally, West and I could live together, safe and at peace. No. They wanted something from me I couldn't give."

His fingernails dug into my flesh, but I didn't move.

"They wanted West. I did what I knew was right, what I _had_ to do for mein little brother. There wasn't much of a choice."

He sighs softly, staring at my new tattoo blankly. I take the marker back, turning him around and beginning to draw a snake twisting up the back of his neck. He lets me finish before taking the pen and drawing a cross on the back of my neck, tied to an anchor.

"Today, November ninth, 1918, I—" his voice breaks, and I can tell that he's trying his best not to cry. I sit still, letting him start again in his own time.

"I stopped being a country," he muttered, his breaths heavy and quick. "Now, I can't _help_ but not act like myself this month. I try to forget—God knows I do. But the closer it gets to the date of what people call my 'death', the more I remember."

Prussia takes his hand off my neck, and I hear the pen fall to the floor. I turn around to find him staring at the floor, eyes wide and teeth clenched, holding his head in his hands. Bright, silver tears trace lines down his face, and his breathing is harsh and uneven.

" _Great,"_ he hisses bitterly, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "Now I'm crying. I'm being weak. This is _stupid_."

I sigh softly, edging closer to him and putting a comforting arm around his shoulder. I need to help him—and I know exactly how. We have more in common than he knows.

"Hey," I mutter to my friend. "It's not weak to cry. It takes more courage to cry in front of someone else than to do it alone, but it's always better to cry _with_ someone than alone. Crying alone won't do you any good. We both know you did the right thing, and you didn't deserve what you got."

Prussia doesn't move for the longest time. I trace his spine with my thumb, hoping that will help soothe him. Wordlessly, Prussia turns to face me, silently pulling his shirt over his head. He doesn't look me in the eye, already knowing what my reaction will be.

My eyes wide as they fall upon five fresh, hardly even scabbed-over wounds on his pale torso. They could only be from one thing.

"The knife wounds," my voice is hushed, as if I'm talking to a wild animal, one who might run at any moment. "But… but that was two weeks ago!"

"It's because I'm not a country," he hisses cruelly, his scarlet eyes flicking upward to look at me. "I _should_ be able to heal faster than normal, but now I can hardly heal at all."

Prussia laughs bitterly, clenching his blue-veined fist angrily.

"I was born as a left-handed albino in a society where that is unacceptable. People thought I was a demon just because of my eye colour. _Nein,_ I don't think _anyone_ could deserve what I got." He leans into me, laying his head on my shoulder.

"But I suppose I'm just being selfish," he murmurs, tilting his head to look up at me. Our eyes lock, bright blue and blood red.

"You seem sad sometimes," he sits up, eyes wide. "Vhat happened?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. It's stupid."

"no problem is too small to care about," the albino states in a matter-of-fact tone. He edges closer, draping his arm over my shoulders in the same way I had done to him. I let out a short laugh, fingering my Dogtag.

"Well… I'm not gonna go that much into the boring details," I lay my head on East's shoulder, since we had essentially just switched positions, "but I'm not a pleasant person. Long story short, I don't have many friends, and the ones I _do_ have are great… they were the only ones who tolerated me, you know? I'm not the kind of person humans generally want when they look for friends—or want in general. But they took the time to get to know me and all that. I still don't get why." I narrow my eyes, leaning further into the Prussian. I didn't mean to start crying, I swear I didn't mean to. I could feel my friend tense as the first few raindrops splattered on his shoulder.

"But then I left. After I got out of high school, I'd begun to travel all over the US. Soon, it became a lifestyle. Kept my mind off everything. I left my little group and travelled instead. I loved wandering around like that—still do, actually. But we just… I dunno, we all kinda fell out of it. It's not that we _won't_ talk, it's that we _don't_. I never thought it'd be this hard, seeing the ones that matter slowly fade away right in front of you. Well… it is."

I curse at myself, sitting up to see Prussia's soaking we shoulder. "Oh, gosh this is stupid. _I'm_ stupid—I still can't believe I left them like that…" I pull the Dogtag from my neck, holding it in front of me where I could see it clearly.

"But I never forget them." My voice is determined now, set and steady as I stare at the necklace. "One of them gave this to me in elementary school, right after she'd moved. I carry it around, and I think about them all every time I look at it. I know they're not really gone, and I know they're with me here."

"Hmm," the albino slips his shirt back on with a soft smile. "Zhe way you referred to everyone else as 'humans'… makes it sound as if you're not one."

I shrug. "To be honest, I'm not sure, myself."

The Germanic brother laughs brightly, stretching his arms.

"Vell, vhatever you are, it's awesome. And I like your group. Zhey sound pretty awesome, too," Prussia grins, pushing himself to his feet. "I'd like to meet zhem. Also, I've been meaning to give you somezhing…" He digs around in his pocket for a bit before yelping in victory.

"Here!" he beams, pulling out a Dogtag pendant that looks just like the Prussian flag.

"East!" I laugh as he strings it onto the chain I was still holding.

"Now you can remember a little somezhing else," he puts the necklace back around my neck. "The Dane and I tolerate you, too. Now come," he grabs my wrist, yanking me up the stairs. "Zhe others need to know somezhing."

I shrug, deciding to just go with it. When we get to then den, everyone's already there, doing whatever they feel like.

" _Listen!"_ Prussia shouts, though everyone can already hear him. "Zhis not-human is now an official, awesome citizen of zhe kingdom of Prussia!"

I roll me eyes along with everyone else—except Italy, of course, who laughs happily. Secretly, though, I'm happy, too. I guess Prussia wasn't the only one who got the help he needed. I finger my new pendant, glad that the Prussian is back to normal.

And I have a feeling he won't be getting his November depression any more.

The day Prussia goes back to normal is great—the house had gotten so much quieter when the albino had closed up, but now it's warm again and full of life.

It's too cold outside to do anything interesting except freeze, and it still hasn't snowed any, but we make up for that by playing nay and every game in the house. That included, of course, an amazingly awkward game of Twister where France was determined to have a successful game with literally everybody on the tiny mat.

Nine o' clock, and we start heading off to bed.

I tiptoe up the stairs alongside everyone else, trying not to shiver in the cold as I wish them all goodnight. I lag behind, my feet hardly making any noise as I walk.

"Hey, Ash?" I hear Prussia's voice behind me using the nickname he'd come up with a while back.

"Yeah?" I pause to let him catch up, tilting my head to one side. He doesn't keep going, instead turning to face me in the middle of the stairway. The snowy-haired Prussian leans in a bit until I'm up against the wall, his eyes full of uncertainty.

He hesitates.

"It's… It's so _cold_ ," he forces out a short, rough laugh and backs away slowly. "It should at least _snow_ if it's going to be so cold."

Choosing not to say anything else, he trudges upstairs. I lean on the railing, watching him go. He's humming under his breath, I realize. A soft, low melody.

 _Strange…_ I think, closing my eyes. _I know that song…_

 **A/N**

 **Whew, that was good. Some angst from Prussia, some angst from the OC, I'd say we're pretty angst-ed out by now, eh? But the story's not over yet…**

 **Okay, again, I love getting your reviews, thanks for sticking with this fanfic, and I hope you like the next chapter! You guys are great~ now go reward yourself for being awesome with some video games (if you're into that kinda stuff). If not, then some anime (I mean, you like Hetalia, so have fun!)**

 **Later~**


	18. I Do Believe It Snowed

**Me again. We're lightening the story up for a bit, so you guys can have a nice break from angst and focus your energy on how awesome Prussia is. I know I've said it a lot, but feel Free—**

 **Haru: *stares at water***

 **Me: How on earth did you get in here. I don't even watch that what are me friends doing to me AAAH CURSE YOU KATYA I WASN'T MADE FOR SHOJO**

 **As I was saying, feel free to review and stuff. Also, if you make something good to drink while you read this chapter (preferably something hot and winter-y), it'll add to the magic of the Nordics—just a heads-up. Also, did I just refer to myself as 'we'? Gosh, I'm starting to sound like Gollum.**

 **My Precious…**

I Do Believe It Snowed

The next morning dawns clear and cold, with a frosty bite to the air. I shiver roughly, even through the layers of covers I'm bundled in, and peer out the window to see that the whole world is covered in a white blanket that glistens like the sea.

No sooner do I stand, my face caked in astonishment, than Prussia rockets down the stairs and stumbles into my room. He looks ecstatic, and I can tell why.

"It snowed," I state simply, too shocked to do much else.

"It _snowed!_ " He grins, laughing hard. My phone rings.

"It snowed!" Denmark's voice exclaims wildly. Before I can tell him how much of a weirdo he is, he continues. "I saw the forecast for where you are, Brohas, and I'm on my way! The other Nordics are coming too."

"You're so weird," I roll my eyes, smiling nonetheless. The Dane simply laughs it off and hangs up.

"Get your coat on," Gilbert calls as he rushes out of my room, yanking on his thick navy military jacket on the way up the stairs.

I change as fast as I can, pulling on a long black coat and a rusty red scarf. I dart upstairs to see Germany staring out the window, already in his heavy military camo jacket and a black scarf.

"It snowed," he shakes his head disbelievingly, a soft laugh seeping through his stoic mask. I grin at him on my way to the kitchen, running to get my boots.

I see Toni stumbling down the stairs, struggling his way into a bright green and blue coat as he goes.

"It snowed!" He smiles widely and runs into the hallway. I laugh brightly as France walks down after his friend, smiling serenely.

"Ah, _mon amie,_ " he beams, taking my hand in his and escorting me outside. "It _snowed._ "

The sky is a stark white, matching the snow that glitters flawlessly on the ground. Antonio is at the foot of the stairs, looking hesitant to step foot in the unblemished covering of angel feathers.

Without warning, Prussia sprints past me, leaping into the snow and throwing it up in the air. He spins around shamelessly, a huge grin plastered onto his face.

"It _snowed!"_ He yells, and I can hear his voice echoing on the crystalline mountains all around. He flops onto his back and proceeds to make snow angels.

Toni and I give each other amused looks before running after him to build snow forts. France is content with strolling around the yard, gazing in awe at the frosted scenery.

"It snowed _!_ " I hear a familiar puppy-dog voice yelp behind me. I turn to see Italy bursting out the door, Japan in all white walking slowly behind.

"It snowed," the doe-eyed Asian comments, staring at the icicles that are hanging from the eaves.

"Come on!" I laugh, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over to help with the fort. Prussia pushes himself to his feet, looking a bit angry, and throws a snowball as hard as he can at the window Germany's watching from.

"Come _on_ , Vest!" He yells, eyes narrowing into slits. "Get out here!"

Germany shakes his head, mouthing _Nein, East._

With a harsh huff and the strong aura of an older brother, Prussia stomps inside, returning moments later with a slightly befuddled West dragging behind him. Once he gets his bearings, Germany begins to help build the fort without complaint, scooping up huge handfuls of snow and dumping them on top of our wall.

A few hours later, a huge red truck pulls up into the driveway, Matthias leaping out of the drivers' seat.

"I'm here!" He calls, stumbling 'heroically' through the snow to help us build a second snow fort. He's closely followed by a familiar young man with lemon-yellow hair and a warm Christmas sweater on.

"Hey, Finland!" I shout, waving him over. "A little help?"

"Asher!" He yelps with excitement. "Denmark said you'd be here, and it's fun, and I like the snow a lot—it reminds me of _Christmas_!" He giggles happily, heaping snow with an expert hand to reinforce the barricades.

Several other guys step into the solid white landscape—a tall, menacing man glares my way through his thin glasses, and I get a sudden chill—one that's not from the cold. Behind him is a Nordic with light blonde hair pinned back by a white cross-shape, and last comes a young man with platinum white hair and a puffin perched on his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah," Denmark slides to a stop next to me, pointing at each of the men in order of appearance, "that's Sweden, Norway, and Iceland—guys this is Asher, NOW LET'S GO!" He darts back the way he came, skidding into Finland's snow-Santa, demolishing it completely. They both laugh good-naturedly.

I turn back to the other Nordics to see Norway looking on impassively, Sweden rolling his eyes, and Iceland glaring slightly at me.

"What's that for?" I demand—it's not like it's a first for people to do that when they meet me, but I still don't like it.

"Denmark dragged us here, that moron," Iceland hisses in a quiet voice, averting his gaze to stare at the others, who are almost done with both forts. "Why am I always towed along like that one awkward kid?"

I shrug. "Dunno. Why are you telling this to me?"

He looks up, shrugging back. "Dunno." He curses under his breath. "But now I'll have to interact with the others."

"Well," I cross my arms, looking at the rest as well. "I always say—if you're going to interact with people you don't like, you might as well get to hit them with something." I bend over, rolling the snow into the perfect projectile and aiming it at Prussia's face. "You get me?"

Iceland smirks, if slightly, forming a snowball of his own. "Perfectly."

The weapons fly, one hitting Prussia and the other smacking into Denmark.

"Hey!" Both countries shout in unison. I double over in laugher, cackling like a maniac at my friends. Iceland chuckles under his breath—sure, this game might seem childish, but anything that involved hitting Denmark with a ball of ice was worth it.

"I'll get you for that, Holland!" The albino Prussian yells at me, scooping up some ammo of his own and hurling them at me roughly. I manage to dodge them, ducking behind one of the newly-made forts. Unfortunately, the missiles had to hit something.

" _HEY!"_ Ice roars, wiping snow from his face. "YOU STINKING GERMAN!" He chucks an icicle at the opposing team's fortress, and it lodges in the middle of the wall.

"Watch out!" Toni yelps, jerking Iceland behind my fort as Prussia, quickly joined by France, sends us a returning volley. The Frenchman keeps firing at us as Prussia goes and somehow gets Sweden and Norway to join his team. I narrow my eyes.

"Cover me," I shove my pile of ammo at Iceland, running out to a certain Dane and yanking him by his scarf to our fort. The wild-haired Danish man stumbles into Ice, earning a solid punch, but he recovers quickly and begins firing away at Sweden once he peers over the opposite wall.

I run back out, getting nicked in the side by one of Norway's snowballs. I throw one back, not looking where I'm going and barreling straight into Germany, who'd been watching this whole thing with a slight smile on his face.

Thinking fast, I duck behind the German, who is promptly pummeled by several Norwegian snowballs.

" _Hey!"_ He yells, flushing an angry red, but before he can do anything else, I drag him onto our team.

By the time I get back, Finland has joined our team and is cheerfully making a huge pile of ammo—Spain helps too, grinning widely as Matthias is hit in the face. A loud grunt from the other team, and Finland yells, " _Sorry_ , _Sweden_!"

I slam my back against the barricade, breathing hard as adrenaline is poured into my system. I grip a slushball tightly in my hand, ready to pummel the next person that moves.

"Doitsu!" I hear an overeager voice yell happily. I peer cautiously over the edge, tilting my head sideways to expose minimal amounts of skin.

There's Italy, standing up obliviously and waving his hands at his friend. Japan widens his eyes, making as if to grab him and yank him back behind the enemy fort, but he's too slow. My slushball hits the Italian right in the face before he even knew what was going on, and I see him stumble backward and land on his back. With a rough laugh, I duck back under the fort.

"Ve need a plan," Germany immediately states as I gather everyone around. Finland keeps a wary eye out, a self-appointed guard that throws snowballs at anyone who shows themselves.

"Yeah," I duck to avoid an enemy missile. "I kinda got that."

"Vell?" West glances over the wall warily. "Vhat advantages do we have?"

"Well, both teams have six people," Toni points out, "so we don't have the advantage of number."

"Neither do they!" Tino beams, ever the optimist as he happily tosses another missile over the barrier.

"The forest," Iceland puts in, surprisingly loud for someone who's normally so shy. "It's closer to us."

"Hey…" my eyes widen. _Ding!_ I can practically hear the light bulb coming on over my head. "Hey, _ja!_ One of us could sneak over there and take them out by surprise…"

"…And then while they're distracted, we could storm their fort!" Denmark finishes my thought, taking the words right from my mouth.

"Vell, vhat are ve vaiting for, zhen?" Germany stretches, preparing for the coming battle.

"American, Dane, you sneak over to zhe woods. Spaniard, Icelander, Fin and I vill cover you. Vhen you two have zhem completely distracted, shout somezhing zhat vill confuse zhem even more, und ve'll take zhat as zhe signal to attack. Any ideas?"

"&*# %&*?" Iceland suggests. Germany shakes his head.

" _Nein,_ zhat vill provoke zhem."

"I love Christmas?" Tino smiles hopefully, chucking an ice ball at Prussia, who's been trying to creep out of his fort. He scrambles back inside just in time to dodge it.

"No," Denmark ruffles his friend's hair, "they'll know it's a signal, if only because _you're_ on our team."

We sit, pondering. Iceland hits Norway in the arm when he looks our way, and Tino gets hit by Japan in the returning volley. Then the attacks just… stop.

"We need to do this _now_ ," I say determinedly, "or at a time like this, while they're reloading. How about…" I whisper something to the group, and they all nod vigorously. Denmark laughs hard, doubling over and falling into a pile of slush. I raise an eyebrow. It wasn't really _that_ funny, but okay.

"Yes, Brohas," he cackles, "now let's go."

" _Nein!"_ Germany grabs the Dane's arm and yanks him back down into the slush, just as a hard ball of ice flies over our heads. "We've vasted too much time—now ve need to vait until zhe next time zhey reload."

"All right," Denmark sighs, getting into a crouching position and returning their fire.

"Finland, make two big piles of snowballs—ve'll provoke zhem vis zhe first pile until zhey vaste all zheir ammo. Zhen, vhile zhey're reloading, ve hit zhem again vis zhe rest. Zhat vay, you two can slip away vhile zhey're confused. Got it?"

We all nod. "Yes, sir!"

By the time we're done with our salutes, Finland has two neat pyramids of snow weapons. I guess I should have seen it coming, how fast he was with snow— _especially_ from the King of Christmas.

Half an hour later, we all walk into the kitchen, cold, wet, and exhausted. On top of that, six of us are hanging our heads in defeat, while the rest of us are reveling in our victory.

Prussia's team never stood a chance.

"Was that some sort of signal?" The albino asks, wringing the freezing-cold water out of his coat. "Or did you attack us screaming "ALVIN'S HOT JUICE BOX' for no reason?"

"It was a signal," Denmark bends over, ruffling his hair to get rid of the powdered snow that had accumulated on his blonde spikes.

"Good game, everybody," Spain yawns and shivers, his jacket dripping wet. Italy smiles brightly, still holding his white flag.

"I'll start a fire," Norway states, noticing the too-loud sound of chattering teeth in the room.

"I'll make hot chocolate and pretend it's Christmas!" Finland giggles delightedly and runs to the pantry. Everyone else disperses, peeling off their soaked coats and scarves.

"Asher," Prussia grabs my hand before I can get out of my jacket, "come here."

"I don't really have a choice, do I now?" I joke as he yanks me up the stairs and down the long second-story hallway. The albino lets go of my hand and darts to the far window that overlooks the front of the house.

"Come on!" he calls excitedly, pushing it open and leaping out in one fluid motion. I scramble out after him, more than a little confused.

"What are we doing out here?" I have the sense to ask.

"Just… just look," he sits down on the flat, snow-covered roof and gently pats the area next to him. I sit down, exhausted, and watch the view.

The sun is setting.

It tints the snowy land below, smoothe and fresh, with blazing fire. The icicles hanging from the pines around the house reflect and refract the light like diamonds, and the falling flakes are turned to drops of blood under the sun's faltering gaze. The mountains are a ragged collection of green and gray and white, like weathered soldiers returning from the battlefield, wreathed in a halo of scarlet.

The sky is a flame, and the sun is it's eye, closing swiftly, ready for night. My own eyes travel downhill to stare at the lake. It's entirely frozen over into a light gray-blue, and there are veins of stark white that stand out against it like arteries in the ice.

All is still and silent, except for the whisper of wind that blows the fluffy snow off the pine needles like chaff in the breeze, the soft pattering of snowflakes as they land, and Prussia's breath coming in a long, drawn-out sigh.

I sigh as well, knowing that I'll remember this moment forever.

"This is great," I breathe, laying my head on the albino's shoulder. He tenses up for a moment, not exactly sure what to do, before he awkwardly puts his arm around my shoulders. I shiver, still cold and wet, and he scoots a bit closer.

" _Ja,"_ he whispers. "It is."

I hum under my breath, absentmindedly fingering through the snow. Prussia laughs softly, staring off at the burning sky.

"The German love song," he states, a smile gracing his features. "The one you played on your violin."

I start slightly, realizing he was right.

"It was the first one that came to mind…" I mutter quickly, bushing furiously. I don't pull away.

We sit in silence, watching as the last sliver of sun sinks below the horizon.

"Asher?" Prussia turns his head slightly to look at me. I can tell he's trying to hide it, but his eyes say everything, whether he wants them to or not. He's nervous. Uncertain.

"…Yes?" I turn to face him.

"Er…" he fumbled with his words, staring at the snow between his fingers. "Asher, I—"

" _Hej_ , guys," Denmark pokes his head out the window curiously, followed closely by Finland. "What are you doing out here?"

"Do you guys want some hot chocolate?" Tino smiles happily.

"Um—sure," Gilbert stammers, pushing himself up quickly.

"That's be nice," I stand and stretch my cold muscles, climbing back through the window.

Meanwhile, Germany, France, and Toni look on from the Germanic brothers' window.

"I…didn't see zhat coming," Germany whispers in a deep, petrified voice. France laughs fluidly.

"Oh, Germany," his voice is musical as he speaks, "You may be an expert in strategy and warfare, but you really useless when it comes to—"

" _Ach_!" The German exclaims, covering his ears and doubling over, as if struck. "Don't say it out loud! Zhat makes it official!"

"What's so bad about—" Spain's question is cut off by France.

" _Amour?"_ The Frenchman purrs silkily.

" _Liebe?"_ Germany growls.

" _Elsker?_ " Denmark sticks his head through the doorway, eyes wide and shining. "Sorry, guys, I couldn't help but overhear. You really _should_ be more quite, you know. Good thing those two are already downstairs."

"Don't you think it's _sweet_?" Spain laughs in bliss.

"It's _weird,_ " Germany hisses, "Zhat's mein older _bruder_. Zhis isn't exactly something I vould take lightly."

"Yeah, it might take some getting used to," Spain chuckles, putting a warm hand on Germany's shoulder.

"I saw it coming from the first day," France's eyes close serenely. "They were so much alike, _non?_ And they still are. And all of you have only just noticed?"

" _Hej_ ," Denmark tries to justify himself, eyes gleaming dangerously, "Who are you, Cupid?"

"You could say that," Francis beams, eyes glinting slyly.

"For the record," Spain glances at every face in the room before turning to look at the constellations shining outside.

"I think they've only started realizing it themselves."

 **I have no comment on this besides:**

 **Extra points to whoever can guess what "Alvin's hot juice box" is a reference to—**

 **Also, did that warm winter drink do wonders or what? I mean, unless its 100+ degrees (Fahrenheit) outside. But 99.9 and below, you have an excuse to drink winter stuff. Oh my gosh I can't find the degrees symbol on my keyboard. HOW COULD I NOT HAVE NOTICED THIS?!**


	19. Snowed In

**Yeah, the signal in the last chapter was referencing Adventure Time—I didn't expect to stump you guys at all, just to see who would answer, heheh. A bit of news—I'm off to a nearby anime convention for the weekend, so here's your early chapter! You're probably going to get another one when I get back, who knows? Not me, that's for sure. Well, I hope you all like this chapter you're about to read, and again, I love the feedback!**

* * *

Snowed In

The next three or four days are snow angels and fun. Matthias had made it clear from the beginning that no Nordic was leaving until they—or rather, _he_ —had harvested every drop of fun they could out of this situation. Soon, Italy and Japan leave, one with tears and sobbing, the other with a little sigh of relief. You have one try to guess who's who.

They couldn't have left a day too soon—the blizzard hits not long after they did. We're all sitting outside when it happens, fooling around and trying to find the best way to demolish a snowman. Then it starts to snow.

That's fine and all, nothing we've never seen before. That is, until the snow gets heavier.

And heavier.

Germany finally makes us stop goofing off and come inside when it gets to where we can hardly see the light bleeding through the windows of the house.

We all scramble inside, Spain shivering the most since he's the warmest country here. I'm fine only because I'd spent so much time in Alaska, which is right next to Russia, anyways.

"Someone get Antonio a blanket," Germany orders with his familiar air of authority that couldn't be refused. I go get the Spaniard the thickest one I could find, knowing he undoubtedly has it worst. Iceland and Sweden start a fire, and France goes to steer his southern friend over to it.

Soon we're all lounging around the living room, playing on our phones, chatting idly, or staring out the window. Before I know it, my gaze drifts to the digital clock on my device to see it's almost eleven. As if on cue, Germany stands up, ever the responsible adult.

"Let's all go ahead and start getting to sleep," he states, making it sound more like a command than anything else. I start to head to the basement, but he stops me.

" _Nein._ " He rumbles, hand resting heavily on my shoulder. "It's going to be too cold down zhere. You stay up here, in zhe den. I'll assign some others to stay down here too, since the other guest room has space for two." He looks around, picking out his victims with a precise eye. "Iceland, Finland, and Denmark. This mix seems like the least likely to kill each other…"

I read the look in his eye, giving him a reassuring nod.

"I'll keep Denmark and Ice separated. Sound good?"

" _Ja,_ _sehr. Danke, Frau."_

I can tell he's tired if only by the fact he hardly realizes he's speaking German.

" _Gute Nacht, Trottel. Begleiten Preußen. Schlaf."_

 _"_ _Ja. Schlaf."_

For the first time since I've known him, Germany shows how exhausted he is—he ignores my light insult, staring at the floor with bags hanging heavily under his eyes. I guess it takes a lot of energy, watching over Prussia.

With a soft smile, I nudge the blonde out the living room door, trusting him to find his own way up the stairs. Everyone else sees the German trudge towards the door and takes it as a sign to disperse.

As Prussia slogs his way up the stairs, I hear his faint whistle spiral down towards me.

 _Funny,_ I think tiredly. _That sounds kind of familiar…_

We both freeze—him halfway up the stairs, me in the middle of throwing a cover onto a couch—as we realize what it is.

" _Ach_ ," he laughs, rubbing his reddening neck sheepishly. "Now it's stuck in my head. _Gute Nacht,_ Brohas."

With an embarrassed grin, he makes his escape, his footsteps making small thumping sounds as he treads to his room. A smile flickers across my face as I climb under the covers.

"'Night, guys," I hear Denmark yawn as he sprawls onto the other couch, shuffling into a comfortable position. Finland's on a chair right next to him, curling up into a loose ball, and Iceland's sprawled across Germany's armchair, seeming more dead to the world than anyone.

"'Night," the Fin and I mutter, already half asleep. Ice makes his respond a light curse, and I can see Denmark grinning before the white-haired Scandinavian cuts out the lights.

Darkness falls, and I peer out the window to see thousands of stars burning in the sky, and moonlit spirits of snow still twirling around each other. All I can hear is the howling wind outside, the pattering of snowflakes on the windowsill, and the gentle snoring of the three Nordics.

I sigh silently, content with where I am as I resign myself to sleep.

I'm woken at dawn by the sun turning the fresh snow to honey that glimmers sweetly in the light. It would've been gorgeous had it not been piled halfway up my window.

" _Mein Gott!"_ I hear Prussia and Germany exclaim in unison somewhere in the kitchen.

I leap out of the couch, meaning to run over to them, but I jump right back up when my feet hit the icy floor.

"It's _freezing!_ " I yelp, which wakes the sleeping Nordics. Denmark jerks awake, eyes wide and panicked, and promptly falls off the couch. Finland cracks a curious eye open, not seeming to want to wake up. Iceland lets out a low groan, covering his face with a pillow and trying to fall back to sleep.

"Of course it's freezing!" East pops his head inside, his starry hair still messy and tangled. "Vhat vould you expect? We're kind of snowed in."

" _What?_ " Denmark leaps up, darting into the kitchen in a blur of red and black. Finland sighs, forcing himself up to follow the Dane. I end the procession, feeling like I don't have much of a choice. Iceland, of course, is still in that morning stage of denial we've all been in—the one where you refuse to believe it's daytime and you want _so bad_ to get back to the dream with the anime characters, or maybe even Benedict Cumberbatch if you're lucky.

"Don't open the door," Germany calls from the hall window, where he'd been peering out at the mounds of snow.

"I know!" Matthias sounds slightly ticked. "I'm farther north than you, and don't you forget it!"

"If we're snowed in," Spain strides into the hall, "then that's maybe below the knee, right? That'd probably be more snow than I've seen in a _long_ time, but I think we could manage." He looks nervous, twisting a strand of hair absentmindedly. "Still, that's a lot of snow…"

"You obviously haven't seen any winters in Germany, have you Toni?" Prussia laughs, totally at ease despite the initial shock.

"I'd better go scope things out," Spain opens the door, bracing himself for the cold.

" _Nein!_ " Germany shouts, but the exclamation was buried under a rapid string of Danish curses from Matthias. When the Spaniard opens the door, he wishes he'd braced himself for a lot more than just the cold.

Before he can even call out for help, he's buried under a miniature avalanche of fresh, powdery snow. He's lucky he hadn't been closer to the door, or else he would've been totally buried—now he's covered from the shoulders down, and turning blue faster than I even thought possible.

"H—Help?" he mutters through chattering teeth to the other countries and me, an embarrassed illustration in his eyes. We don't waste much time in getting our friend out—though he's practically a ghost by the time he's uncovered.

"Someone start shoveling the snow outside," West commands, "We'll need to close zhe door as soon as possible. Someone else, hurry und get Spain warm."

Without another word, the German immediately begins shoveling the deceptively fluffy white powder back outside.

"W—What _was_ that?" Spain shivers through soaked clothes and purple skin.

"Come on, Greenie," Denmark sighs, escorting Toni upstairs. "I take it you don't have much experience with snow."

"Nope."

Denmark laughs, leading him to his room. Rolling my eyes, I bend over and begin to shove snow out the door. The others are still asleep, but the work goes fast enough with Germany, Prussia, Finland and I.

"Zhe snow must have blown in under the porch," Germany grumbles, eying the innocent-looking residue still scattered on the drenched floor. I hear his soft whisper about having to get that checked and laugh, rubbing my cold fingers together.

"What do we do now?" Finland asks, looking slightly worried.

"I dunno," I shrug, turning to find myself inches away form Sweden. The tall Nordic looks down at me through his glasses, practically oozing a sort of menacing aura. I take a step back, eyes wide.

"Maybe we should get supplies," he rumbles in a deep, deep voice, his gaze sweeping slowly over everyone in the room and finally resting on Finland. I shudder.

"Oh, hello, Sweden!" the Fin is unfazed, skipping over to the man. He notices my expression, laughing brightly.

"Oh, he isn't angry," he beams, "that's just his face."

I sidestep the tall blonde and start towards the kitchen, eager to get away from the Swede.

"I have a good supply of food in zhe pantry," Germany states in response to Sweden's remark. "I thought zhat somezhing like zhis might happen."

"Then… I'll make breakfast?" I look at the gathering of men over my shoulder and instantly regret my words. Cooking for a horde of full-grow men was like cooking for a horde of black holes—I was going to be pretty busy.

"Get someone to help you," Germany reads my expression with a good-humoured twinkle in his eye. "Ve have a lot of people."

Everyone eats breakfast soon after—though it would have been a miracle if I'd been able to manage them all without France and Finland's help. We lounge around until noon, when it's warmer and the snow's had time to melt.

"I think it would be a good idea to get some more wood, _non_?" France glances at our dwindling pile. "This won't be able to last us."

Germany nods, opening the door a crack and peeking his head outside before pulling on his boots and stomping through the slush. I follow suit—he seems to know what he's doing. The more I think about it, however, the more I wonder if he's been in a situation like this before.

I mentally smack myself. Of _course_ he has, he's _Germany._ The real question is, how many times?

I'm startled out of my mind palace as Denmark begins to chop down a towering pine tree.

With his battleaxe.

Looking like the maniac he is. He has a wild glint in his eye, and I take a step back, along with everyone else.

"I… I have hatchets in zhe shed," Germany glances nervously at the already huge pile of splintered logs Denmark's cut so far.

"Nah, I'm fine." Matthias doesn't look up from his work, his expression unchanging.

"All… All right, zhen." West shrugs, not exactly sure how else to react. I grab one of his hatchets, along with several others, and we begin to chop wood while the rest bring it inside—all of us keeping our distance from the Dane. After a while, Finland stops chopping and goes upstairs to check on Spain. I can't help but be reminded of Alaska.

It isn't long before Germany calls us back inside, saying we have more than enough wood. Most of it was provided by Matthias, who hadn't even broken a sweat this whole time. My hands are freezing through my gloves, and I can't stop myself from shivering violently. Still, when I step foot inside the house, I can feel the warm tsunami of the heartily burning fire hit me like lightning. I sigh in bliss.

When we walk into the living room, Iceland and the others are poking at the fire, urging it to spread to some new logs. We all sit around the orange flower of heat, enjoying each other's company without having to speak.

That's when Finland stumbles down the stairs, his eyes full of dread.

"Spain's sick!" It doesn't take an expert to see he's panicked. Very panicked.

Prussia and I shoot each other a glance, communicating a worried phrase to each other through our eye contact.

 _This is bad._

* * *

 **A little treat for you guys—this scene was cut for the obvious reasons:**

 **"** **Come on, Greenie," Denmark sighs, escorting Toni upstairs. "I take it you don't have much experience with snow."**

 **"** **Nope! But sometimes I like to close my eyes, and imagine what would happen if it really** ** _did_** **snow in my homeland…" the Spaniard begins to hum a light tune under his breath. The Dane laughs, turning to me with a mischievous glint in his eye.**

 **"** **I'm gonna tell him."**

 **"** **Don't you** ** _dare,_** **" I narrow my eyes. The poor guy couldn't know the truth of what happens to a frozen Spaniard. Plus, it was adorable when he was innocent like that.**

 **Yeah, that was almost actually in there. It's up to you to decide whether it was a shame it only made the Author's Note, or whether you dodged a bullet. Also, here's a translation:**

 **"** **I'll keep Denmark and Ice separated. Sound good?"**

 **"** ** _Yeah,_** ** _very. Thanks, Frau."_**

 **I can tell he's tired if only by the fact he hardly realizes he's speaking German.**

 **"** ** _Good night, idiot. Go with Prussia. Sleep."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Yeah. Sleep."_**


	20. Maelstrom

**Warning: this is a hot chocolate chapter, therefore there will be much winter and snow and fluff for good measure.**

Maelstrom

At the words "Spain's sick!", Matthias immediately runs upstairs to see for himself. Prussia ignores him, turning to the Fin that had given the news.

"How sick?" The albino stands up, looking serious for once.

"Surely it can't be _that_ bad," France wrings his hands nervously.

"No," Denmark darts downstairs, panicking wildly, "it's _bad_." He waves his hands in the air as he speaks, crystalline eyes wide. "There's _snot_ and _germs_ and he's _hacking_ and _coughing_ and—"

"It must be because he's used to warmer weather," Norway interrupts, grabbing the Dane by the scarf and yanking on it roughly. Denmark yelps, scratching at the makeshift noose and making small gurgling noises deep in his throat.

"Must be," Germany nods, rolling his eyes at Matthias.

"Do you have any medicine?" I ask, pulling the weapon from Norway's grip and letting the Dane go free—but not before giving the scarf one last yank.

" _Ja."_ The German nods, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"So he'll be all right?" Tino speaks softly with worry.

"After a while, _ja,_ " West states somewhat grimly as he walks into the kitchen to get the meds.

"Is Spain contagious?" I turn back to Denmark, who nods his head wildly.

"Yeah, it's a really bad cold! Did I mention all the snot and stuff?"

"Yes, several times," Iceland's eyes narrow into slits.

"He vill have to stay in zhat room alone until he gets better," Prussia takes charge in his brother's absence. "France, you vill stay vith me und Vest, clear?"

"Crystal," the Frenchman responds fluidly. "When do you think he'll be all right?"

"In a few days," the albino Prussian shrugs, "give or take…"

"Good," France attempts to lighten the mood a bit. "I don't think I could survive your snoring for very long."

That night, as we sit around the small fireplace, it begins to snow again. Or rather, it storms so hard that I'm sure the whole house will be buried by dawn.

Soon after we start the fire, Spain shuffles down the stairs, wrapped in his fluffy blanket. We all watch, somewhat warily, as he seats himself by the hearth.

"Feeling better?" I ask, my voice tinged with hope. He nods, grabbing a tissue and sneezing loudly into it. My hope dissipates along with his health. Denmark was right about all the snot.

"A bit, _chica_ ," Toni offers a small, weak smile. We all sit in silence for a bit longer, enjoying being warm and dry while the howling of the wind outside gets louder and louder. I shudder, burrowing deeper into a nest of pillows I'd made. It sounds like a banshee, or a demon. I'm glad I'm not out there.

Suddenly, a large shape—larger than any of the swirling snowflakes—flies by the window. With a shriek akin to Death, it thuds to the ground outside.

We all leap up, shouting various exclamations in our mother tongue.

"What was that!?" Finland voices everybody's thoughts, and I leap onto the couch to peek out the window. A pitiful shape is sprawled out on the ground, but I still can't see what it is. The snow starts to bury it, slowly but surely.

"I… I don't know," Denmark mutters from beside me, eyes wide.

"I'm going to get it."

Everyone freezes and stares at me.

"Vhat?" Prussia gawks, astonished, as I walk towards the door.

"You heard me," I narrow my eyes, not wanting to waste any more time. With a little yelp, the albino runs and skids to a stop in front of me.

" _Nein!"_ He shouts, "I won't let you!"

With a soft hiss, I shove him to the side, clutching my blanket around my shoulders, and reach for the handle. Prussia grabs my arm, trying to buy some time.

"Fine, but at least put on a jacket, for Lord's sake!"

"That thing may not have that much extra time!" I yell, whipping around to burst through the door. Immediately, I'm buffeted by cold, biting wind with a frosty edge. The innocent-looking snow stings at my face and tries to blind me, and I'm forced to squint fiercely.

I edge to the right, letting the wind carry me to the window, where I see a tawny shape give into the ice.

I jump in surprise, dropping to the ground. Digging frantically, I try to uncover it, to no avail. The snow flies at me, piling up against my legs like a freezing barricade and burying the frozen creature even further.

 _I don't have time to dig aimlessly,_ I realize, plunging my already-freezing hands into the colder snow, rooting around for any signs of life… or hope.

My fingers brush against something soft and cold, yet containing the dull throb of life that snow and ice didn't have. I light up victoriously, pushing mounds of snow out of my way. Even so, the swirling cyclones keep me from seeing, and the relentless flakes only come down faster. The snow pushes itself into my way, biting my hands. My hope fades.

I stop digging.

A warm hand grabs my freezing wrist, and a thick, warm blanket is thrown around my shoulders.

"Come _on!_ " Prussia's voice shouts from behind me, struggling to be heard over the furious wind. I dimly feel him begin to pull me back.

"No!" I turn on him, keeping a icily pale hand where my dent in the ground is. "It's in the snow!" The albino stops dragging and turns to stare at me, eyes wide and frantic.

"You'll kill yourself in zhis veather!" He yelps, and I narrow my eyes.

"And how do you think that thing is doing?!" I demand to know through chattering teeth. "I can't see this animal's body when the snow melts and know I could've done something."

Prussia hesitates, eyes darting from me to the rapidly accumulating snow. With nothing but a resigned groan, he begins to dig as well. With four hands working, we uncover the creature faster than I could've hoped. The albino immediately yanks it out of the snow and wraps it in his coat, not wasting a second.

"Let's go inside," he barks sternly, not allowing any more excuses as he grabs my wrist in a vice-like grip. I nod vigorously, knowing there's no way he'll let go again.

We turn around to go back inside, but now we're facing the wind. The small shards of ice redouble their efforts to stop us, stinging our eyes and faces like darts from thousands of blowguns. I try to move, but I'm already so drained from being out here for so long, and the wind is getting nothing but stronger.

I try to take a step forward, Prussia still beside me, but the gale surges and forces me to stumble backward, collapsing in the snow.

"Ash!" I hear Prussia's voice, but everything is black. Strange…

Something warm slips around my waist, and I shiver violently at the contrast of the heat and my icy skin. The vague sense of motion, and I'm in a warm, golden place unlike the maelstrom outside. The heat intensifies, and I can no longer be described as merely shivering. My body is wracked with violent spasms, my arms jerking and my back arching as if that will somehow throw the cold off me.

"Asher!" I hear sounds that slowly forme to represent a distorted rendition of my name, and something that might be pounding footsteps.

 _No…_ Everything hurts. I grit my teeth, but they hurt too. _Those aren't footsteps. That's a… my heartbeat…_

"Hey!" One voice is shockingly close to my ear, and I feel hands trying to rub the warmth back into my arms and face. I writhe harder, hardly being able to control it. "Asher, stop. Calm down… Shhhh…"

I link the voice to the burning arms and flinch. But the voice is warm, the voice is soothing, the voice is kind.

"Shhhh…"

I begin to relax, slowly but surely. I want to look up at who this mysteriously gentle person is, I want for my head to tilt up and our eyes to lock in an unspoken thanks. But I can't. My limbs won't move, and nothing will work.

Motion again, the voice's hot breath murmuring soft phrases like "it's all right," and "you're safe now," in my ear. The steps of whoever's carrying me are light and quiet, making a gentle rocking motion. My breathing deepens, and I feel my mind beginning to slow down in exhaustion.

I feel myself being laid down onto something soft, the faint sound of wind nearby—I must be on the couch under the window. Okay, so I'm in the house. Not dead. Cool.

Something warm is draped over me, and I feel my limbs beginning to thaw. My eyes crack open, if barely, and I see a tall figure standing over me with a worried expression showing clearly on their face, which had been slapped raw by the storm. Snow is crusting their platinum hair, and an indecipherable expression is glowing in their rose-red eyes.

The person hasn't noticed my eyes are open, and I see them bend over, taking a small tawny figure out of their coat and laying it in the crook of my arm.

"Keep each other varm," the voice whispers softly, the source's warm breath barely touching my neck. I sigh quietly, letting my eyes close once more. The creature at my side stirs.


	21. Brohawk

Brohawk

I wake late in the morning, the sun flooding through the window and into my eyes. I move my head, grimacing as the joints crack loudly. Slowly, I shake my arms and legs, allowing myself a small sigh of relief when I find I'm no longer frozen.

Turning my head to look next to me, I see the hawk curled up in the crook of my arm. It's breathing deeply, seeming to be comfortable enough. One wing, however, is held out at an awkward angle—probably sprained.

I stretch widely, careful not to disturb the bird—that's when I see Prussia sprawled out on the floor next to the couch, fast asleep. Smiling, I prop myself up with one arm and peer down at him. It doesn't look like he'd changed at all from the soaked jacket he'd been wearing last night. Poor guy.

Germany chooses that moment to walk into the room, slowing down to a soft tiptoe when he sees his older brother asleep. I catch his eyes and nod towards Prussia, a questioning look in my gaze. The blonde German makes his way closer and kneels by the couch.

"He vouldn't let anyone get near you at all," he whispers, careful not to wake the albino. "He vould take anyzhing zhey offered and give it to you himself—zhe bird, some medicine, a blanket. He vas very protective since you couldn't really move."

I nod, smirking down at the Prussian.

"That moron. I was fine, really."

Germany lets out a small laugh and pushes himself to his feet.

"How's Spain?" I ask, standing up on shaky feet and picking my way carefully around Prussia, bird in my arms. I try my best not to wake the albino, but he stirs a bit at the sound of me moving, mumbling something under his breath.

"Spain's doing fine," Germany retreats to the kitchen, and I begin to follow. Casting one last glance towards the Prussian, I pause just long enough to throw a blanket around his shoulders. He still doesn't wake, and I follow Germany.

"Zhis may actually be zhe last day he has to spend in bed, zhen I'll let him walk around," he continues, referring to the Spaniard. He begins to scramble some eggs, throwing in a bit of seasoning. "I'll make you somezhing to eat—zhe cold took a pretty big toll on you."

I say nothing to object, taking the German's word for it. Instead, I ask if there happens to be a basket around. Germany wordlessly nods towards the pantry, where I find a decent-sized wicker picnic basket. Lining it with some clean dish towels, I place the bird in the middle, hoping that would work well enough for a nest. It calls softly, still unconscious, and nestles into the lining.

"Enjoy," Germany lays a plate of eggs and wurst onto the table, shrugging indifferently. "Or don't. As long as you eat it."

I offer a small smile, laying the bird's basket on the table as I begin to eat.

" _Danke,"_ I mutter, mouth full. Strange… something tastes hot… "Ghost pepper?" I ask, smirking slightly.

" _Ja,_ " West laughs roughly in his deep baritone. "I thought you'd like it."

"You were right," I nod, shoveling some more into my mouth. I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now.

A few minutes into breakfast, Germany and I freeze at a sudden yelp from the den and the light tapping of bare feet running across the cold floor. Not a second later, Prussia skids into the room looking panicked and disheveled.

"Where's—" he begins to shout, but relaxes when he sees me. I give an awkward little wave.

" 'Mornin'," I take a sip of coffee. He lets out a huge, catlike yawn.

"Hai. How do you feel?" He asks, obviously still tense, however tired he may be.

"Good," I shrug, standing to put my plate in the sunk. "You?"

"I'm… _güt…"_ he seems to wilt and slips back into German. " _Aber… Ich bin müde…"_ he yawns once more.

"Here," I sigh, taking him by the shoulder and steering him back into the den. He looks confused, but I lead him to the couch and make him take off his jacket, which is still cold and wet. I give him a gentle push, which he's too tired to react to. He falls on his back, and I toss the blanket back over him and make as if to leave.

" _Schlaf, Preußen,"_ I roll my eyes when he tries to sit back up, protesting in a round of garbled German that doesn't make any sense. I throw a pillow at him, which makes him fall back onto the couch. I'm not even to the door yet before I hear his gentle snores.

"Well then," I hear Spain's voice from the kitchen. I turn to see him at the foot of the stairs, wrapped up in a thick blanket and holding a box of tissues. "Prussia looks like a zombie."

His voice is muffled and nasally from his cold, and he blows his nose loudly, hoping that would help. I give him a weird look.

"Are you okay?" I ask suspiciously. "Should you be up?"

He shrugs. "I dunno." He glances at the basket uncertainly. "I didn't know you had a hawk."

I gaze at the bird as well—a large bird the colour of coffee with a long russet tail and a snowy chest.

"Neither did I."

The day passes uneventfully—then again, almost anything would be uneventful compared to the storm yesterday.

Once again, we're all sitting by the fire. Finland, Denmark, Germany, and Norway are playing scrabble on the floor while everyone else is either staring into the fire or messing around on their phones. I peer into the flames, occasionally looking down into the basket beside me to check on the bird.

The hawk stirs a bit, calling softly in its sleep. I ignore it—it's been periodically wriggling around for the past few hours. But this time, it doesn't settle down.

"Hey," my eyes narrow in confusion. "You all right?" Everyone else looks up at the bird.

Its eyes shoot open.

The hawk leaps up, trying its hardest to fly off. It flaps its wings wildly, crying out fiercely. I scramble back into Prussia, shocked at the sudden energy. The bird falls to the floor, landing on its bad wing—we all wince at the resounding _crack!_

We all stare at the hawk, who lays perfectly still.

"Someone get some first aid," I whisper, my voice still loud in the stunned silence. Finland is the first to react, pushing himself up to get what we need. I lift the bird the same way one would lift an antique vase (unless you're Link), careful not to touch its bad wing as I set it back into its basket.

The hawk doesn't fight back. It only stares at me cautiously out of the corner of its large amber eyes—that seems to be the only thing it can do. It lets out another squawk, a pitiful little noise.

"Germany?" I ask, my voice still soft. "You got any pain meds?"

"None for animals," the blonde shakes his head as Finland comes back in with a first aid kit. "This vill have to do."

I nod slowly, feeling everyone's eyes on me. The hawk calls softly.

Half an hour later, the bird is cleaned, bandaged, and asleep. Germany took care of the first aid—he was the one with the most practice, after all.

"What are you going to call it?" Finland asks, tilting his head to one side as he peers down at the creature.

"Brohawk," I say flatly, not looking up from the animal. "Obviously."

I can hear Prussia's smirk in his voice. "Obviously."

A few minutes later, people start to filter to their respective rooms, heading off to sleep.

"Wait," I say as Prussia gets up to leave.

" _Ja?_ " He turns around to face me, and I don't think of anything but my steady breathing as I give him a small peck on the cheek.

"Thanks," I smile softly, watching as he blushes furiously.

"Er— _nichts bis danken_ ," he dips his head, flustered and awkward, before turning and heading upstairs. I smile after him, the moment lasting maybe two seconds before I feel Denmark lay his head on my shoulder with a wide grin.

"Wha— _get off!_ " I shove him roughly, sending him stumbling back a few feet. He laughs loudly.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" I demand, the good mood that I was in suddenly gone when he keeps up that stupid smirk.

"No reeeasoooooon…"

I roll my eyes. "Sure."


	22. Goodbye and Hello

Goodbye and Hello

A few weeks later, the blizzards have passed, the snow has melted, the Nordics have left, and Brohawk is almost completely healed.

The day after Denmark and his companions leave, I'm able to take the wrappings off of Brohawk's wing. After I finish unwrapping the gauze, he peers down at it curiously, gingerly smoothing down some of the feathers with his beak. Then, without warning, he leaps up, trying to fly to a nearby chair.

Instead of landing gracefully on the armrest as he no doubt had imagined doing, the little hawk fell to the ground, landing on his stomach. A few more tries that ended in a very undignified position for him, the bird realized that flying was useless for now.

In the days that followed, Brohawk got steadily more used to the others and me. He'd tried to chase after Gilbird, Pierre, and one of Spain's many turtles multiple times, hopping across the floor or gliding between pieces of furniture. Fortunately for the smaller animals, Germany made sure the hawk knew that they were off limits quickly—I'm glad I'm not the only one who's terrified of Germany's yelling.

The days are filled with fires blazing in the hearth, a variety of card games, and the constant sound of Prussia humming that German song under his breath. Whenever I point it out, he just shakes his head and mutters, "it's stuck in my head now…"

Occasionally, the others would convince me to play violin for them near the fire on nights when it seemed especially cold—they printed out sheet music for me to learn, so I never ran out of material. It was nice, really. They were the best audience I've ever had.

Brohawk, to my surprise, loved it when I played. Whenever I picked up the instrument to play, he would grow still and wide-eyed, tilting his head to one side and staring straight at me. He looked just like a stuffed bird, with nothing but the sporadic flicks of his tail showing any signs of life. The Bad Touch Trio, as I fell to calling Prussia, Spain and France, wouldn't stop cracking jokes about the little hawk, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Still, all good things must come to an end. Soon came the day when it was time to let Brohawk go.

I stand in Germany's backyard, the ground comfortably thick with snow and Brohawk perched on my arm. I'm wearing a leather sleeve made from some spare material I'd found in Prussia's lair, but I can still feel the raptor's sharp talons gripping my arm.

"It's time for you to go now, _mein Freund,"_ I smile softly at the bird, whose only response it to tilt his head to one side in confusion.

"You can fly now, buddy," I murmur, my voice wavering. Strange as it may be, this hawk has become nothing less than one of my best friends in only a month. Prussia, Denmark, Brohawk, Al, Russia—they're my only real friends. Sure I _know_ everyone else, but I never talk to them, and I hardly feel like I can. Those four and this hawk don't care how weird, mean, or stupid I can be.

It's hard to find a friend who sticks by you when you show your dark, frightening parts as well as your light parts. Now I'm losing one. Like so many before him, he'll disappear and never come back.

I sigh, shaking my head and rubbing my face. This was stupid—hawks should be flying around a forest, anyways. The last thing Brohawk would want is to be stuck in a plane if I go back to America, and then stuck in an apartment after that. This was for the best.

Finally deciding I wasn't going to say anything else, Brohawk begins to test out his wings. He lifts them slowly, spreading them wide, but careful not to hit me. The bird gives me a look, a question burning in his eyes. I nod.

Without another thought, Brohawk takes off. He spirals upward towards the sky, his feathers fluttering, his tail fanned out, and his wing good as new.

I sigh shakily, cursing under my breath. Brohawk disappears into the forest.

"It's all right, Ash," Spain tries to comfort me as we walk inside. "He's where he belongs"

I shake the man's comforting hand off my shoulder.

"I know," I growl. "I'm happy!"

I do not look very happy.

"Really?" France raises an eyebrow, then mutters under his breath, " _Gosh, Americans are so weird…"_

I ignore his comment, rolling my eyes and glancing at the time. It's around two-thirty, so I decide to head to the living room and mess around on my phone until I think of something to do. The rest disperse to work on one thing or another, but all eventually make their way into the den by the time it's dark, settling down to play cards or something.

I feel their occasional glances, bright and hopeful. I sigh roughly, wrapping myself in a blanket and focusing more intently on my game. The countries stop staring, taking the hint that there would be no music tonight.

In a while, they all leave to go to sleep, leaving the house completely silent. But I don't go to bed. Instead I wait a while, until I'm sure no one's awake, and pull my violin from its case. I run a finger along the gently curving side, spread rosin on the bow, and silently lift the instrument to play it. I won't preform for them, but I know music is the one thing I need right now.

A few solemn notes later, and I'm lost. I don't notice, or even care about the real world, instead choosing to breathe in the music until I disappear in it.

A few hours that feel like minutes later, I lower the instrument, the weapon, the drug, the friend. I let out a soft sigh, opening my eyes that I hadn't realized were closed, and start when I see Prussia sitting in the doorway. He's sitting cross-legged, looking almost like a Kindergartener with his wide red eyes as he stares up at me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, lowering my bow.

"Listening to you. Obviously." He cocks his head to one side and stands, slowly walking over to me as I place my violin in its case. I rise to meet him until we are standing face-to-face.

The albino wordlessly takes my hand, rubbing my palm softly with his thumb. He leans in close, and I stare into his deep red eyes. I can feel his breath on my cheek.

I hear a scratching sound at the window. Turning my head slightly to see what it is, I unconsciously pull away with a happy gasp.

"Brohawk!"

I dart over to the window, my hair flying out behind me and whipping Prussia lightly in the face. He doesn't react, just standing with a slightly shocked, disbelieving expression on his face, eyes narrowed and mouth hanging slightly open. My feet patter softly on the floor as I run over and throw the window open to let Brohawk inside, as well as a flood of cold air.

The hawk screeches indignantly, annoyed at being left outside in the snow. He glides over to my violin case and glances at me expectantly. I laugh musically before picking the case up by the handle and making my way to the guest room upstairs, Brohawk perching on the front like the figurehead on a ship.

"Thanks, East," I call over my shoulder, still speaking softly as to not wake anyone up. "I hope you enjoyed the music!" Shooting him a quick grin, I trot upstairs.

Prussia stands alone in the room, feeling very small. He sighs softly to himself.


	23. Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

"East, vhere are you?" Germany's deep voice shakes Prussia out of a cold, uncomfortable sleep.

"I slept down here," the albino mutters, not entirely awake as he peers up at his younger brother. Germany snorts at his sibling.

"You don't say?" The blonde lets out a rare stab of sarcasm, scanning the mess around his brother. The Prussian had gathered all the pillows from the couches and chairs and has formed them into a small, lumpy nest he'd bee curled up in.

"Vhere's Ash?" The albino asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Still asleep, I think. Vhy?"

Prussia shrugs. "I dunno."

Silence ensues, but the comfortable silence close siblings share that can communicate worlds.

"She found Brohawk," the older Germanic brother states at last. "He wanted to come back in."

Germany sighs.

"It's _not_ going to be fun cleaning up after zhat bird."

The rest of November passes in a blur, at least for me. December quickly replaces its predecessor on he calendar, bringing decorations and cards with it. Germany doesn't let Prussia go caroling, despite the albino's incessant whining—mainly because we all know the Prussian will sing anything but carols.

Spain and France leave, and I begin to earn my rent, playing violin on the streets of the nearby town with Brohawk perched on my case as usual. Weeks pass, and it's finally Christmas Eve.

"What are you planning for Christmas, Brohas?" Al's voice crackles excitedly as I face time him in the den.

"I just gonna hang out here, I guess…" I reply, absentmindedly patting Brohawks's head. "You?"

" _Well_ , I was totally thinking about having a party!" he exclaims, " _But_ the President said I need to work on saving money." He looks thoroughly annoyed, letting out a small huff.

"Well, I'm not going to argue with that," I smirk, and America's scowl becomes even more prominent.

"Ha ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms before giving me a strange look. "How much longer do you think you'll stay?"

I shrug. "I was thinking about staying a year or so, though it really depends on if they'll let me take Brohawk on the plane home."

"Oh…" Al seems to wither, but shows me a small smile anyways. "I miss you, Brohas…"

I smile back at my friend, putting a hand on the screen to comfort him.

"I miss you, too."

A few minutes later, and I close my laptop, ending the face time. I glance down at Germany and Prussia, who are on the floor playing scrabble. Weird—I don't know if I've ever seen them being so friendly.

I don't hear the distant sound of bells at first—they're so soft, and I'm half-asleep. I crack an eye open, the noise getting steadily louder. My groggy mind processes this new sound at a turtle's pace, but snap to attention when I realize what this must mean.

"Prussia, Germany!" I leap out of the chair I'd fallen asleep in and dart over to the two, who are resting on the couch.

"Guys!" The noise gets louder. I nudge Germany with my toe, and he jerks awake, sending Prussia flying off the couch.

"Vhat _is_ it?" The albino hisses, staring up at me from the floor.

"Listen!" I pause, letting the sound get a bit louder and watching as their eyes widen in recognition.

"Who—" I don't get very far in my sentence before they pull me outside, darting as fast as they could. We all stand outside in the cold, the sound of the bells ringing in our ears. The moonlit snow falls gently, seeming to mock our excitement, and I catch sigh of a shadow darting past the moon.

"Hello!" A familiar voice calls down from a bright red, reindeer-powered sleigh that's laden with Christmas lights. "I came all the way from Finland to wish you a merry Christmas!"

The three of us look at each other, grinning brightly, before darting to the porch railing and watching as the Happy blonde Nordic flies through the sky.

I begin to laugh, Prussia at me left and Germany at my right, all of us staring up at the ecstatic Fin. I hadn't felt this excited about Santa since I was a kid.

I feel a warm arm wrap around my shoulders, and I know it's Prussia. My smile grows even brighter.

"How the heck is he flying?" Germany's brow wrinkles in confusion. Finland hears.

"With the spirit of togetherness, anything is possible," the Nordic beams, laughing once more. "Even miracles!"

He begins to fly away, no doubt on a tight schedule, his parting words ringing through the snowy winter's night.

"God blesses all of you!"


	24. Betrayal

Betrayal

The next morning Germany and I wake to find three large boxes sitting under the tree. I know it's cliché, but I can't really think of anything more I could want. Maybe an Xbox, but still.

Any doubts about who the gifts are from were erased when Germany bends over to read the tag on the nearest one.

" 'Made in Finland'", he smiles, sitting on the floor to examine the rest. A few seconds later, Prussia rockets downstairs, followed by Brohawk, who flutters over to perch on my arm.

The albino Prussian pounces on his gift and tears it apart, looking for all the world like a feral white wolf. He leaps up triumphantly, holding a book called "The Decline of Bismarck's European Order".

"Why would he want to read that?" I whisper awkwardly to Germany as I watch my friend excitedly flip through the pages.

"He calls it 'adding zhe awesome'. Basically, he reads a book about himself, crossing out vhat he doesn't like and writing notes about vhat really happened in zhe margins."

I laugh softy, nodding for Germany to have his turn next. He picks up his box and lifts the lid to reveal a long chain of wurst in a bag, some beer, and several magazines.

"You next!" Prussia yelps, shoving a box into my hands. I rip it open to see a Fallout Boy album and a large red and black bow—the kind you would normally put on _top_ of a gift.

"Aww, thanks guys—" I smile, lifting the bow awkwardly. "But… what's _this_ for?"

"Well…" Prussia gently takes the ribbon from my hands, holding tenderly. Looking me in the eye, he doesn't even hesitate before throwing the book behind him.

"Vhat?" Germany looks utterly surprised. "You've been begging for zhat since January!"

" _Ja,_ I know. But… to be honest…" he places the bow on my head, smiling shyly.

"I'd rather have you."

I suppress a grin. "Prussia, if this is you asking me out, it's a yes."

Prussia lets out a huge whoop, wrapping me in a huge hug and sending Brohawk flying into the kitchen angrily. Seemingly effortlessly, he lifts me up and spins me around in the air.

"Well," Germany mutters to himself under the sound of our laughter. "I guess it's official."

Apparently, Germany had spread the word about Prussia and my relationship, because three movies, a nice restaurant, and only two months later, my phone won't stop going off. Apparently everyone I know has taken it upon themselves to express their utter shock at how Prussia and I are still together.

" _Honestly, I didn't think it would last this long,"_ France texts. Then, from Denmark: " _Wow dude, you're really hanging in there!"_

And, of course, from Russia:

" _I though you two would be like sunflower,_ da _? Very beautiful, but die quick."_

I scroll through those messages one freezing February night, Brohawk peering uncomprehendingly at the screen. These notes don't bother me—both Prussia and the senders know it.

True, this "relationship" is pretty awkward and childish—Prussia and I are really awkward on dates, so we just refer to it as "hanging out". Outside of that, nothing's really changed. We're constantly picking on each other, pulling pranks, and acting in a general friendly manner.

Still, I don't mind—I actually enjoy things like this. We both have zero experience with having a significant other, and it's not like I _want_ the soap opera of a "normal" relationship. So things haven't really been much different.

It's a dark, overcast day in early April when I see England request a Face Time.

Prussia is out, Germany is reading _The Book Thief_ in his room, and I'm curled up in bed, trying to ward off an overall gloomy mood.

"Asher," the Brit speaks in an urgent tone, and I can see the nervous whites of his eyes. "Pack your things."

"What?" I freeze in the middle of doodling a tattoo on my arm. "Why?"

"You need to _leave_ ," England looks very worried indeed. "I know I should've told you earlier, but I didn't think it would matter until now, and I—"

"Tell me what?" I ask, his worry rubbing off on me.

"—Well, I'm so sorry, this just won't—"

"England," I lover my voice to a menacing growl. "Tell me what?"

The blonde Englishman gulps nervously.

"Prussia's using you."

I don't answer for a minute, frozen solid and too stunned to thaw.

"What…?" I feel my soul begin to sink, falling with a dull _thunk_ in my stomach.

"It all started with the passport," England shook his head soberly. "I heard that he told his friends you would be 'useful', but I thought nothing of it. Then he came to me with the haunted house idea—he gave me a script and plans on who should 'die' when and how. He had a lot of fun playing around with the last few people, and now—have you noticed how much attention he's been getting because of you? No one's paid any attention to him since he dissolved, and now it's like he's the great Prussian Empire again!"

I begin to shave violently—but not with tears. No, this is something much more powerful.

"You're wrong," I hiss, trying not to believe England, "He _wouldn't_ —"

But I can't hide from the fact that this sounds like an overall Prussia thing to do. Though I hate to admit it, I can more easily see Prussia doing this as a prank than England randomly lying like this for no apparent reason.

"He _played_ with my emotions in the Halloween prank?!" I quiver with rage. "He made me _cry._ I don't cry for everyone _."_

"Like I said, he thought it was fun."

"I told him _everything!"_ I punch my mattress. "I TRUSTED him! I thought he LOVED me!"

" _Prussia?_ Love _you_?" England snorts. "That German doesn't know what love is."

I look at my few possessions scattered around the room. _Al was right_ , I think somberly. _I never should have left._

"Asher," England speaks softly, gently, shooting me a pitying look. "Pack your things."

I stand slowly and nod.

"All… All right."

Prussia walks through the door, holding a large bouquet of scarlet roses. He smiles lightly.

 _Asher is going to_ love _zhis,_ he thinks excitedly, rocketing straight up to her apartment.

"Ash!" He yelps, skidding into her room. No answer. The room is completely bare and the bed is rumpled and unmade.

"Ash?"

"Check in zhe basement," Germany calls from his room, and Prussia darts down to his lair.

"Not in here," Prussia's footsteps pound back upstairs and he sticks his head of platinum hair into the room he shares with his brother. West looks up from his book, alarmed at the look of genuine confusion and concern on his brother's face.

"She's gone," East states disbelievingly.

"Did you check in zhe yard?" Germany stands worriedly.

" _Ja,_ I checked _everywhere_ _!"_ Prussia begins to panic, pacing rapidly around the room. "Do you know vhere she could have gone?" He pleads desperately to his brother. Germany sees that he's still clinging limply to the bouquet of roses he'd gotten for his girlfriend.

" _Nein,"_ Germany shakes his head slowly, "But I _did_ hear her talking to England earlier."

Prussia's eyes narrow into flaming red slits. "Zhat jerk! Vhat did he say to her?!"

"I don't know," the blonde shrugged. "I couldn't understand the words… but she vas yelling. Maybe we should check her room again?"

The two German brothers dash back into their visitor's room, rifling through the empty closet, under the bunk beds, anywhere they could think of for something— _anything_ —that would give them a clue to Asher's whereabouts.

"Look!" Prussia poked his head over the side of the top bunk. "She must've been in a huge hurry to forget zhis." He holds up a laptop.

"Hey…" Germany snaps his fingers, the lightbulb flipping on above his head. "Ve can check her Face Time history and see vhat England said to her!"

"Good idea," Prussia nods, flipping he laptop open and, without hesitating, types his name in as the password. The owner's desktop flicks open, and Prussia logs into her Face Time.

The two brothers watch Asher's last conversation with England. Germany's jaw drops. Prussia screams in rage.

"Vhy vould he _do_ zhat!?" Germany demands when the recording ends. "Zhat b—"

"UGH, I should've seen it coming!" Prussia hisses, slamming his fist against the wall. "Zhat crapwad has been hinting for zhe past few months zhat he would find a way to get Asher away from me—he's always been a jealous twit, and I'm sure he vouldn't let a chance to stab me in the heart get avay."

"Vhat—vhy?!" Germany looked confused.

Prussia punched the wall again, this time making a huge hole, and stared incredulously at his brother.

"You know most of zhe countries hate my guts, right?"

"Vell, yeah, but—"

"No, no buts," Prussia snarled, stomping back downstairs. "Ve need to find Asher!"

And without wasting another second, Prussia is gone.


	25. Rain

Rain

I walk along the pavement of the nearby town, my bag dragging behind me and Brohawk perched on my violin case as it swings dejectedly in my hand.

No one stirs. The townsfolk are all inside, and the threat of rain looms heavily in the air.

I take in the thick atmosphere, but my breaths catch in my throat. I stop for a second, sighing in frustration before moving on. I would've been at the airport by now, but I didn't want to steal Germany's car. If Prussia had been home, I would have been delighted to take his—he would have deserved it. Germany probably didn't even suspect Prussia of doing… what he did.

I can't bear to have the words cross my mind. Instead, I plod morosely along, my steps heavy as my heart.

I don't understand. Prussia had always been so easy to read. You could tell what he was feeling or thing just by the way he spoke, or walked, or by his expressions. You could tell he was lying by his eyes, those expressive blood-red eyes. What's more, if he had been faking things this whole time, he'd never broken character—not even once.

That's the thing about Prussia, isn't it? It's so hard to tell what's real in the world, but he's a nice break from all that. Things are just so simple to him—if he has no real reason to hurt someone, he doesn't. Sometimes, his reasons seem a bit strange, but they still make some forme of sense, at least to him. So why…?

I sniff a bit.

 _No,_ I think, narrowing my eyes. _No, no, no. Don't you cry, Asher. Don't give anyone that satisfaction._

Something wet rolls down my face.

 _No… that must be rain._

Another watery bead.

 _No. Stop!_

An another.

"Stop!" I scream aloud, falling to the ground. The rough pavement scratches my hands and knees, and Brohawk flies up to perch on a power line. My violin is only a bit scratched up as I clutch it to my chest, but I continue to leak, water steaming down my face.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I push myself up under a deserted bus stop, dragging my violin case and bag along with me.

The thunder gradually gets louder, but I ignore it. It's not like I care, anyways. I want to get struck by lightning. I want to die. I hug myself tightly, shivering in the cold. I don't know how long I stay like that, but I'm jerked up by the sound of my phone. Looks like Spain's sent me an email.

I sigh, planning on ignoring it, but my phone dings again, this time from a text alert. It's Spain again

 _Please open it, chica._

I sigh softly. No reason to ignore him—he was nice enough. So I open the message.

There's no text, no subject, just a small folder attached. I open it with a slight glare. It's not like I have anything better to do.

It begins to rain as I peer down at the screen, tiny droplets of mist making their way under the shielded bus stop and falling onto my hands. I ignore them, scrolling down through the pictures of the file.

My eyes widen, and I grow tense.

The first photo is of Prussia and I when he'd first asked me out. He's spinning me around in the air, and I see a wide grin on splitting my features. Prussia has a look of pure ecstasy on his face. I look at it long and hard…

And it's real.

The next one is Prussia and I gazing up at Finland, who is flying in his sleigh. Our backs are to the camera, and Prussia has one arm around my shoulders, his other hand clasping mine tightly. He is unfeigned, desperate, like he never wants to let go.

I sigh shakily.

The pictures that follow are all distant memories. There's Prussia sitting in the living room's doorway, entranced by my music.

Prussia and I sitting on the snow-covered roof, staring at the sunset. Prussia and I dancing in the first snow of the year. Prussia and I drawing tattoos on each other. Prussia and I talking during the Halloween prank…

I hiss softly glaring at the photo. But then a thought hits me…

Prussia can't heal. If he doesn't heal, then why would he puncture himself with knives… for attention?

I flip through the rest of the pictures with renewed vigour, and finding no fault with any of them. I keep moving through until I get to the last picture. I break down.

There's Prussia and I, asleep on the plane to Germany. My head is resting on his shoulder, and his arm is draped loosely around me.

That is nothing but real.

I fall to my knees as the rains lams down on me, wide-eyes and stunned.

 _Good_ , I think bitterly. _Now no one can tell that I'm crying._

Thunder shrieks, and I scream with it, in fury, in pain. Lightning whitewashes my vision, blinding me to the world.

I feel a cold, wet hand on my shoulder, and my head shoots up.

"East," I stand, wiping the rain from my face. "I… I don't know anymore."

"Asher…" He leeks me straight in the eyes, desperate and scared. "Asher, I saw your conversation with England, and—"

"Stop." I turn my head slightly and hold up a hand. My voice is a low whisper as I ask for a confirmation. This decides it all.

"Was it true?"

Prussia is so easy to read. He looks at me longingly, taking my hand. I rip it away, glaring fiercely—but not at him. I'm not sure what to think anymore, and all I need is something to point me back to the right direction.

"Was it true?" I shake violently.

"No! No, it vasn't!" Prussia begins to sob, his salty tears merging with the rain. "Zhat _Kolbenloch_ vas lying to you for zhe vorst reasons, and Ash—"

He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace.

" _Ich liebe dich."_

I shake my head uncertainly, leaning into the Prussian. He begins to hum, softly at first, but gaining confidence.

"The German love song," I whisper, pushing back and looking into his eyes. He nods shyly, stroking my hair softly.

The rain pours down.

Lightning flashes.

Prussia is so easy to read.

"Funny," I murmur, leaning my head on his chest. "People always said you didn't know what love was."

Prussia lifts my chin up slightly, his deep red eyes gazing down into my blue ones.

"I do now."

 _ **PROLOUGUE**_

"Come on, East!" I laugh, puling him out of the car and into the McDonalds.

"All right, all right!" He grumbled, stumbling close behind. It's been less than a year, and the United States haven't changed a bit. "Are they all here?"

"Yeah!" I beam, pulling him through the doors and peering around. "They've been _dying_ to meet you, you know."

Prussia laughs nervously his gaze drifting around before it lands and a large table at the other end of the restaurant with four people gathered around it.

"Do you think they'll like me?" He asks, trying to smoothe down his hair in vain.

I snort, messing his platinum hair back up with a smile. "I _know_ they will."

Before he can protest, I drag him to the table, waving at the group.

"Hey, Brohas!" I beam, bring Prussia up to them. "This is the Prussian I promised you."

East glances around nervously at the group at the table, looking each of them in the eye. It's been a while since he's gotten out and talked to this many new people…

One, a short, pale woman with bright green hair grins at the albino.

"Nice meeting you, man!" She beams.

"That's Kat," I nod towards her, grinning brightly. "Here's Ben," I motion towards a tall man with short brown hair and a dragon tattoo on his wrist.

"Hey."

"Here's Gravie," I show the country a happy-looking woman with dark skin and a bright smile.

"Hi!"

"John," I smirk at a dude with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

"Yeah," He beams. "That's me. You seem pretty legit, too."

"Well—er… thanks."

The group laughs, and the green-haired girl pipes up.

"Hey, Asher, you still got that Dogtag!"

I hold it up fondly. "Yeah. Actually, this is what got Prussia to ask about you guys." I turn to the Prussian.

"So how do you like us?" John piped up. "We as interesting as the other countries?"

"Actually…" Prussia begins to smile brightly, realizing that he found something he'd never expected to find in all his long years. A place where he belonged.

"You guys are so much better."

 **A/N**

 **Thank you guys for sticking with this story for so long! I hope you've had just as much fun reading it as I've had telling it. If you liked it, I'm planning on writing another Hetalia 'fic sometime called "Big Brother, Little Brother". I won't spoil what it's about, but it'll have some chibi Germany and chibi Lichtenstein, with grown-up Prussia and Switzerland. No romance, so this one will be more my kind of thing.**

 **Again, I hope you liked it, and remember to stay Awesome my bros!**


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